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LECTU RES 



ON SOME SUBJECTS OF 



Modern History mid Biography : 



DELIVERED AT THE CATHOLIC UNIVERSITY OF 
IRELAND, i860 TO 1864. 



By J. B. ROBERTSON, Esq., 

PROFESSOR OF MODERN HISTORY, 
TRANSLATOR OF SCHLEGEL's "PHILOSOPHY OF HISTORY," MOEHLER's "SYMBOLISM 
AND AUTHOR OF THE POEM, " THE PROPHET ENOCH." 



DUBLIN: 
WIIJ.IAM BERNARD KELLY, 8 GRAFTON STREET. 

;.;. LONDON: 

MESSRS BURNS AND LAMiBERT^, PORTMAN ST.^, PORTMAN S a. 

' ~ AND 

SIMPKIN, MARSHALL;, AND CO., STATIONERs' HALL COURT. 
1864. 

\Tke right of translation is reserved, 'X 



V 









DiMin : Printed by William Bernard Kelly. 



CONTENTS. 



?3 



Mi 



Prefatory Address, ...... vii 

History of Spain in the Eighteenth Cen- 
tury — 

Lecture I. — Spain from the War of Succession to the 

War of Independence, ...... I 

Lectl re II. — Religious and Political Institutions of 
Spain in the Eighteenth Century. — Causes of the 
Spanish Revolution. — Parallel between the Revolu- 
tions of Spain and of France, .... 96 

Remarks on some Passages in Buckle's Essay on Spain, 
in his " History of Civilization :" A Supplement to 
the foregoing Lectures, 164 

Life, Writings, and Times of M. de Cha- 
teaubriand — 

Lecture I., , 218 

Lecture II., 260 

Lecture III., . . , 323 

Lecture IV., 364 

Two Lectures on the Secret Societies of 

Modern Times — 
Lecture I, — Freemasonry — Sketch of its Origin and 

Early Progress — Its Moral and Political Tendency, 405 

Lecture II, — The Illuminati — the Jacobins — the Car- 
bonari — and the Socialists, . . . . . 464 

Appendix. — Brief Exposition of the Principal Headset 

Papal Legislation on Secret Societies, . . . 522 



TO 



f^is (Ktace tfje MoQi IBleb. Pattfdt ILeaJg, 19,29. 



LORD ARCHBISHOP OF CASHEL AND EMLY, 



ETC., ETC. 



PREFATORY ADDRESS. 



My dear Lord Archbishop, 

In dedicating to your Grace 
this volume of Lectures, I wish to express my 
grateful sense of the personal kindness you have 
ever evinced towards me, and of the encourage- 
ment you have given to my humble labours, as 
well as to testify the gratitude which all friends 
of the University must feel for the warm interest 
and zealous patronage you have shown in be- 
half of our Institution. 

These Lectures may perhaps recall to your 
Grace the happy days when you were more 
closely connected with our University, prior 
to your elevation to your present exalted 
position, whence you look down with interest 
upon the Institution, in which you once took 
so active a part Those happy days none of us 
can have forgotten, when your Grace used to 
deliver most interesting lectures, that attracted 
a crowded and distinguished auditory ; and 
when our illustrious Rector, Dr Newman, used to 
expound the principles and practice of university 
education, with a philosophy and an eloquence 
never surpassed. Both have, alas ! been taken 
from us ; but the one still assists us by his 
prayers, and the other by his active patronage 
and support. 

The following Lectures may at first sight ap- 



viii Prefatory Address. 

pear very desultory and unconnected. What 
possible connexion can exist between Spain in 
the Eighteenth Century, the Life and Writings 
of Chateaubriand, and Secret Societies ? Yet a 
nearer inspection will shew the closest union. 

First, it must be observed that this volume is 
a sequel to one published a few years ago, in 
which the history of Spain in the sixteenth cen- 
tury was reviewed, and the causes, moral and 
political, of the French Revolution were con- 
sidered,* In the present work, the history and 
the institutions of Spain in the eighteenth cen- 
tury are set forth, the causes of her revolution 
traced, and a comparison with that of France 
instituted. Chateaubriand and his ministerial 
colleagues and political supporters exerted in 
1823 a most decided influence on the destinies 
of Spain, broke the first furious onset of her Re- 
volution, enabled the great Catholic and Con- 
servative majority to rally its strength, and 
which, though the Revolution for a time revived 
and desolated the country once more, yet, 
finally overthrew it. Lastly, Secret Societies 
were in a greater or less degree the bane of 
France and Spain, and a potent element of 
moral and political disorder in both countries. 

Thus we see Spain, Chateaubriand, and Secret 
Societies are closely connected ; and with much 
diversity of matter, there is still a thread of 
unity running through these Lectures. 

The history of Spain and the history of Secret 
Societies rest on published documents ; but my 
account of Chateaubriand is drawn from oral 
communications and personal reminiscences, as 

* Lectures on some Subjects of Ancient and Modern History. 
London : Dolman, 1859. 



Prefatory Address. - ix 

well as from published documents and literary 
works. The biography of that eminent writer 
and statesman, coupled with notices of the dis- 
tinguished personages with whom he w^as con- 
nected, and of the great events in which he took 
a part, was indeed to me a labour of love. It 
recalled to mind the happiest period of my life, 
when the world as yet was all before me, when 
I followed lectures at the University of Paris, and 
was admitted to those brilliant circles of the 
Faubourg St Germain, which I have never since 
forgotten. 

In the last year of the reign of Louis XVIII. 
I attended occasionally the able lectures of M. 
Lacretelle on French history, and of M. Ville- 
main, on general literature. But my chief instruc- 
tion was drawn partly from private reading, partly 
from the conversation of the very distinguished 
men whom it was my happiness to have become 
acquainted with. My family had known in Eng- 
land several of the emigrant nobility of France ; 
and on my arrival in Paris I was introduced to 
others to whom I had taken letters of introduc- 
tion. I can never forget the great kindness and 
hospitality with which a near relative and myself 
were treated by the amiable Marquis de Mont- 
morency-Laval, the brother of the nobleman who 
was long ambassador at Rome. At his house I 
used to meet the most distinguished members of 
the clergy, and of the Cote Droit. There I saw 
the venerable Bishop of Troyes, who, as Abbe 
Boulogne, had filled so important a place in the 
literature and ecclesiastical affairs of France in 
the early part of this century. At the age of 
seventy-five he retained all the vigour and viva- 
city of his genius, was an eloquent preacher, and 



X Prefatory Address. 

still wrote Pastorals in the brilliant, antithetical 
style of the eighteenth century. He had, as 
a young abbe, preached before the Court of 
Louis XV., and he recounted to me interesting 
anecdotes of the olden time. 

At the same house I met the Marquis de 
Bouille, an eminent orator of the Right side, 
and M. Laurentie, the wisest of French journal- 
ists. The Marquis de Montmorency introduced 
me to his cousin, the Due Mathieu de Mont- 
morency, the friend, and for a time the rival, of 
M. de Chateaubriand, and of whose public life 
I have had occasion to speak in my account of 
the last-named statesman. The interview of ten 
minutes I was honoured with by him, I can 
never forget. A countenance so full of benig- 
nity and of nobleness, manners so pleasing and 
so dignified, fascinated all who approached him, 
while his virtues and talents commanded uni- 
versal respect. 

It was, however, at the house of Count de 
Senftt-Pilsach, a German nobleman, who had 
been ambassador of Saxony at the Court of 
France, but was then living in retirement, I 
passed the most agreeable hours during my 
year's abode at Paris. The Count and his wife 
and daughter were converts, and of the most 
fervent cast. He was, indeed, a man of angelic 
piety, and of the most active benevolence. The 
Abbe de la Mennais has more than once told 
me, *' he was the most perfect man he ever 
knew." He was also possessed of great talents 
and acquirements, and having afterwards entered 
into the service of Austria, there discharged the 
duties of the most important embassies, and was 
regarded as one of the most accomplished of 



Prefatory Address. xi 

Austrian diplomatists. The ladies of his family- 
were extremely intellectual ; and, like the County 
spoke with facility several languages, and among 
others, English. 

While in London, I might call half-a-dozen 
times and never meet an acquaintance at home, 
I was sure every evening, from eight till half- 
past ten o'clock, to find at the house of this 
excellent nobleman a circle as intellectual as 
it was amiable. Thither used to resort the 
illustrious philosopher, the Viscount de Bonald, 
(though unfortunately he was not at Paris dur- 
ing the year of my visit ;) the Abbe de la Men- 
nais, then in the zenith of his fame ; the Abbe 
Gerbet, now Bishop of Perpignan ; M. de Saint- 
Victor, the learned historian ; the celebrated 
publicist, Baron de Haller ; Count Kergolay ; 
and Peers and Deputies of great distinction. 
There I used to hear the most agreeable and in- 
structive conversation, especially on ecclesiastical 
and political affairs. At this period of my life, I 
thought religion and politics the only studies 
worthy of attention. Poetry, which had been a 
passion with me in boyhood, was now laid aside, 
and was only at a later period taken up as a 
diversion from other literary pursuits. Though 
I had never the happiness of knowing the Vis- 
count de Bonald, I was fortunate enough to 
make the acquaintance of his amiable and 
accomplished son, M. Henri de Bonald, who has 
now succeeded to the title and the estates. 
From him I learned much respecting the views 
and objects of the Royalist party. The conduct 
of that party was ever noble, generous, and dis- 
interested ; their religious principles were excel- 
lent ; and as to their political views, though one 



xii Prefatory Address, 

or two sections of the party might fairly be 
taxed with exaggeration, yet the doctrines of 
the great bulk were, on the whole, sound and 
temperate, and such as would have received the 
sanction of our illustrious Burke. 

The salons of the pious Abbe Due de Rohan 
I used also to frequent. After a domestic be- 
reavement which had occurred under the most 
tragic circumstances, he had taken orders in the 
Church, and used to pass his time in works of 
charity. His rooms used to be filled with young 
men, nobles, literati, students of law and of 
medicine, who came in the evening to discuss 
among themselves literary and scientific ques- 
tions, or to concert measures of charity. It was 
from those drawing-rooms sprang the great 
society of St Vincent de Paul, which gjome years 
afterwards was established at Paris, and has 
thence spread over the whole Church. 

With Chateaubriand himself, I had not the 
honour of becoming acquainted ; but I had the 
pleasure of seeing him preside over a literary 
Catholic Society, called '^ La Sociite des bonnes 
Etudes!' 

But there was one illustrious member of that 
brilliant society I have been describing, that ex- 
erted the greatest fascination over me, and with 
whom I was afterwards united in the bonds of 
the closest friendship. This was the celebrated 
Abbe de la Mennais. His hours of reception 
were from eight till ten o'clock in the morning, 
and at that early hour his ante-room was filled 
with visitors, each waiting to have his five 
minutes' talk with the great man. I was re- 
minded of the crowded parlours of the great 
■London physicians. Thither used to repair the 



Prefatory Address. xiii 

men who have since become so celebrated in the 
world. There would be seen, among others, the 
learned and intellectual Baron d' Eckstein, the 
ablest disciple of the two Schlegels ; the Abbe 
Gerbet, now Bishop of Perpignan, who, in the 
vigour of his dialectics, nearly vied with his great 
master; the witty Count O'Mahony ; M. La- 
cordaire, about to leave the bar for the pulpit, 
where he was to obtain so transcendent a fame, 
and to win so many souls to Christ ; and M. 
Lamartine, who then drew from religion those 
sublime inspirations, which his fantastic pan- 
theism has never since supplied. 

When I first saw the Abbe de la Mennais, I 
was reminded of Barry's portrait of Pascal in 
his great picture in the Adelphi. Nothing could 
exceed the interest of his conversation, and the 
rapid, brilliant flow of his ideas. I felt like one 
raised from the ground by the spell of a potent 
magician ; and henceforward, until his sad seces- 
sion from the Church, I was fascinated by his 
genius, no less than touched by his kindness. 

The Pere Lacordaire has well observed that 
"the first volume of the 'Essai sur I'lndifiference 
en Matiere de Religion' had given him the autho- 
rity of Bossuet in the Church of France." This 
is true ; and I will add, that, had he possessed 
the strong sense, and the moderation of character 
which distinguished the great Bishop of Meaux, 
he would have retained that ascendency. From 
1817 till 1823 his influence was enormous. His 
rooms, as a French nobleman once assured me, 
were then crowded with visitors, among whom 
bishops, canons, peers, deputies, academicians, 
and eminent literati were to be found. But when 
I first became acquainted with him, his authority 



xiv Prefatory Address. 

began to decline. This decline was to be traced to 
his tone of asperity towards political opponents, 
to his attitude of hostility towards the Ministry 
of M. de Vill^le and M. de Chateaubriand, and 
which displeased the bulk of the Royalist party ; 
and to his rupture with friends for differences on 
mere questions of philosophy. Henceforward 
his influence was confined chiefly to the young, 
whether among the clergy or the laity. And if 
too exclusive and too little tolerant to be able to 
preserve that political and ecclesiastical power 
which his genius and learning, as well as his 
piety and zeal, long entitled him to, he yet was 
a most warm, affectionate friend. And as I 
have introduced him as one of the authorities 
from which I derived information on the eccle- 
siastical, political, and literary affairs of the Re- 
storation, I must here record my lasting grati- 
tude to him for his many proofs of friendship, as 
well as for examples of piety, and for lessons in 
religion, philosophy, and literature, which have 
been of invaluable service to me through life. 
And if, in the long delirium of the last twenty 
years of his life he was severed from me, as from 
so many of his friends, he was rarely absent from 
my thoughts, and formed the subject of many a 
supplication to Heaven. 

In the Lectures on Chateaubriand, I have 
spoken of the Abb^ de la Mennais as a writer, 
and as an ecclesiastical and political leader 
during the days of his orthodoxy. Here I 
speak of him in his private capacity only.* 

* His early and orthodox writings, like those of Tertullian, 
will always be esteemed, and hold their place in the Church. 
First, he made more conversions from Protestantism and Deism 
than any other writer of the age. Secondly, he and Count de 
Maistre have helped to banish the GaUican opinions from the 



Prefatory Address. xv 

Some time after my return from my first visit 
to Paris, I had the honour of meeting in a large 
company in London, where were many of the 
EngHsh and Irish CathoHc political leaders, the 
illustrious O'Connell, and of being introduced to 
him. I said, ^' Mr O'Connell, I am happy to 
inform you that, having been lately in Paris, I 
found the French Catholics and Royalists taking 
a warm interest in the struggles of their English 
and Irish brethren for the acquirement of their 
political rights." "So I perceive," replied Mr 
O'Connell, "from the Afni de la Religion, which 
I am in the habit of reading. But I see also 
that the tmguillotined Jacobins are as great ene- 
mies as ever to Catholicism and to Ireland." 
O'Connell here showed how he perfectly under- 
stood the irreligious spirit of the modern French 
Liberalism. 

It was a singular coincidence, (and which I 
mention as a coincidence only,) that shortly 
after I had the honour of holding this conversa- 
tion with Mr O'Connell, Mr Shiel proceeded to 
Paris, and there was introduced to M. de Genoude, 
the secretary of that Due Mathieu de Mont- 
morency I have already spoken of, and who was 
also editor of the Etoile, afterwards the Gazette 
de France. This gentleman warmly took up the 

Church of France. Thirdly, his works of piety, especially his 
"Notes to the Following of Christ," are very much admired. 
Fourthly, he and his party have been chiefly instrumental in pro- 
curing for France the freedom of the Church and the freedom of 
education. For the discussion of high constitutional questions he 
was less fitted by the cast of his mind and character. As a young 
man, I used to dissent from some of his exaggerated opinions in 
politics. His philosophic system, never approved, was tolerated 
by the Holy See as long as he applied it to the defence of Re- 
ligion. But when, after his sad apostasy, he turned it against 
the Church, it was then censured by the Sovereign Pontiff. 



xvi Prefatory Address. 

cause of English and Irish Catholics, brought 
their grievances before the eyes of Continental 
Europe, and had no little share in accelerating 
the great measure of Catholic emancipation.* 
Thus, those feelings of estrangement and distrust 
which, through the influence of the Foxite Whigs, 
many English and Irish CathoHcs had enter- 
tained towards the French Royalists, gradually 
disappeared. 

After the period I have spoken of I never 
had the pleasure of again meeting your great 
Liberator. But he afterwards did me the honour 
to encourage by his approval my first literary 
undertaking ; and on the establishment of the 
Dublin Review, he and my illustrious friend. 
Cardinal Wiseman, solicited my co-operation in 
that journal. 

There, as in. all my other humble labours, I 
devoted my feeble powers to the defence of God 
and His holy Church against unbelief and mis- 
belief, and of social order and liberty against the 
principles of Revolution, which are but Impiety 
in a political form. 

That I may long have health and strength to 
prosecute this holy warfare, I crave the favour 
of your Grace's prayers. 

Begging your Grace's blessing, I remain, my 
dear Lord Archbishop, with many thanks, your 
Grace's most obedient and devoted Servant, 
Df^BLiN, >/j/2i, 1864. THE AUTHOR. 

N.B. — The author here begs to renew his thanks to the 
eminent divine, who has kindly furnished him with the valuable 
notes contained in the Appendix. 

* Mr Canning sometimes complained to Prince Polignac, the 
French Ambassador in London, of the extreme vivacity of the 
articles in the Etoile, 



LECTURE I. 

SPAIN FROM THE WAR OF SUCCESSION TO THE WAR OF 
INDEPENDENCE. 

Ladies and Gentlemen, 
/^N a former occasion I delivered, in this hall, a 
lecture on Spain under Ferdinand and Isabella, 
Charles V., and Philip 11.""' I purpose, to-night, to 
speak of that country from the War of Succession to 
the close of the last War of Independence ; and here, 
as in the former lecture, I shall confine myself to the 
internal history of Spain. In the second lecture, I 
shall briefly describe her religious and poHtical institu- 
tions, the characteristics of the different classes that 
composed her society, her general moral and intel- 
lectual condition in the last century, and, lastly, I 
shall examine the causes of her Revolution, and its 
moral and political effects. Without compromising 
in any degree my religious convictions and my politi- 
cal principles, I have, in the treatment of this subject, 

* See Lectures on some Subjects of Ancient and Modem 
History: Lecture V. London: Dolman, 1859. 
A 



2 Spain. 

aimed at the strictest historical fidelity. Hence I 
have been careful to use foreign rather than Spanish 
authorities ; and the statements of Catholic historians 
and travellers as to the religion, the government, the 
character, and the intellectual culture of the Span- 
iards, I have carefully confronted with the testimonies 
of Protestant, and, in some cases, infidel writers.* 



* In the composition of these two lectures on Spain, I have 
consulted the following works : — 

1. Coxe's Memoirs of the Bourbon Kings of Spain. 5 vols. 
London, 1815. 

2. Dunham's History of Spain. 5 vols. London, 1832. 

3. Memoires pour servir a I'Histoire ecclesiastique du dixhui- 
ti^me Siecle, par M. Picot. Paris, 181 5. 

4. L'Histoire Universelle, par Cesar Cantu. Trad. Franc. 
10 vols. Bruxelles, 1850. 

5. Lehrbuch der allgemeinen Geschichte, (Manual of Univer- 
sal History.) By Dr Constantine Hofler. 3 vols. Ratisbon, 

1853- 

6. Die Spanische Monarchic im sechszehnten und im sieb- 
zehnten Jahrhundert, (The Spanish Monarchy in the Sixteenth 
and the Seventeenth Centuries.) By L. Ranke. Berlin, 1837. 

7. Prescott's History of Ferdinand and Isabella. London : 
Bentley, 1857. 

8. Prescott's History of Philip II. London : Bentley, 1857. 

9. Cardinal Ximenes and his Times, with special reference 
to the Inquisition. By Professor Hefele. Translated from the 
German by Rev. Mr Dalton. London: Dolman, 1 861. N.B. 
— This is the best work on the Spanish Inquisition. 

10. Lord Mahon's Spain under Charles II. London, 184O. 

11. Lord Mahon's History of the War of the Spanish Succes- 
sion. London, 1837. 

12. Churton's Gongoi-a ; or Historical and Critical Essay on 
the Times of Philip III. and Philip IV. of Spain. 2 vols. Lon- 
don : Murray, 1862. 



War of Succession. 3 

Before we enter on the period that is chiefly to 
engage our attention, perhaps it were well to cast a 
glance on the age preceding it. The century that 

13. History of European Civilization. By Balmez. Trans- 
lated from the Spanish by C. Handford, Esq. London : Bums, 
1861. 

14. Melanges religieux, philosophiques, politiques, et lit- 
t^raires. Par J. Balmez, Trad. Franc. 3 vols. Paris, 1854. 

15. CEuvres de Donoso Cortes. Trad. Franc. 3 vols. Paris, 
1862. 

16. Dr Soutliey's History of the Peninsular War. 3 vols. 
London, 1823. 

17. Sir A. Alison's History of Europe from the French 
Revolution. 10 vols. Edinburgh, 1848. 

18. Memoirs of Godoy, (Prince of the Peace,) vi^ritten by 
himself. Eng. trans. 2 vols. London, 1836. 

19. Chateaubriand's History of the Congress of Verona. 
I vol. Paris, 1836. 

20. Michaud's Biographie universelle. Paris, 1820. 

21. Encyclopaedia Metropolitana. London, 1838. 

22. The Journey of Townsend in Spain in 1787-8. 3 vols. 
London, 1792. 

23. Tableau de I'Espagne moderne. Par M. Bourgoing. 3 
\^ols. Paris, 1803. 

24. Itineraire en Espagne. Par M. De La Borde. 5 vols. 
Paris, 1809. 

25. Lady Louisa Tennyson's Andalusia and Castile, i vol. 
London, 1856. 

26. L'Espagne en 1822. Par M. Clausel de Coussergues. 
Paris, 1822. 

27. Cardinal Wiseman's Essay on Spain in 1845. Reprinted 
from the Dublin Review. 

28. L'Espagne en i860. Par M. Vidal. Paris, i860. 

29. Notices on Spain in the Quarterly, Edinburgh, zxA Dublin 
Reviews, during the last forty years. 

30. Observaciones sobre el Presente y el Porvenir de la 
Iglesia en Espana. (Remarks on the Present State and Future 



4 Spain. 

intervenes between the death of Philip II. and the 
accession of PhiHp V. to the throne of Spain, is one 
that marks the rapid pohtical dechne of that country. 
Yet, if it cannot cope with the intellectual and politi- 
cal energy of the age preceding, nor with the reform- 
ing activity of the age following, it was not without a* 
peculiar lustre of its own. It witnessed the setting 
glory of Cervantes, and the noonday splendour of the 
poet Calderon, and of the artists Murillo, Velasquez, 
and Zurbaran. Quevedo then displayed the old rich- 
ness of the Spanish humour, and De SoHs maintained 
the dignity of his country's historic Muse. In the 
field, Spinola and other great generals upheld the old 
renown of the Spanish arms. Yet under this briUiant 
show the work of decay went on. All this military 
and literary glory was like the hectic flush on the 
cheek of a beautiful consumptive. 

Prospects of the Church in Spain.) By the Right Rev. Dr 
Costa y Borras, Bishop of Barcelona. Second edition. Bar- 
celona, 1857. 

31. Ticknor's History of Spanish Literature. 3 vols. Lon- 
don, 1S49. 

32. Ford's Hand-Book for Spain. London : Murray, 1 847. 

33. Buckle's History of Civilization. 2 vols., 8vo. London : 
Parker, 1861. 

N.B. — In a supplement appended to these Lectures, will be 
found strictures on many passages in the first chapter on Spain 
in the second volume of the last-named work. 

Independently of these books, I have received valuable oral 
communications relative to the intellectual, moral, and political 
condition of the Peninsula during the last forty years, from a 
learned friend, who has long resided in that country. 



War of Succession. 5 

Philip III. reigned from 1598 to 1621. He was a 
pious, amiable, and gentle-spirited prince. The most 
important measure in his reign was the expulsion of 
the Moriscoes. Had this people been treated with 
greater lenity and kindness in the preceding reigns — 
had their conversion to Christianity been regarded 
as sincere — and had the Spaniards, in their relations 
with them, been guided by the large benevolent spirit 
of religion, and not by the narrow bigotry of national 
feelings — there is every probability that a great por- 
tion, at least, of the nation would have heartily em- 
braced the creed of their conquerors. But the harsh 
pohcy of the latter made this people secretly cling, for 
the most part, to their old religious errors, and enter 
into conspiracies against the state. This was the 
opinion of several Spanish churchmen of that age, 
and, among others, of the Canon Navarrete. The 
Moriscoes carried on secret negotiations against the 
Spanish government with the Ottoman Porte and the 
pirate states of Barbary. And when we consider that 
so many of these disguised disciples of Mohammed 
were settled on the coasts of Valencia, Murcia, and 
Andalusia ; that at this period the Moslem power 
was still formidable ; and that Spain was every year 
shewing symptoms of greater weakness and exhaus- 
tion, — ^it is impossible not to see what formidable 
perils then encompassed that country. These con- 
siderations rendered, indeed, the utmost vigilance and 
precaution necessary, as also the chastisement of the 



6 Spain. 

ringleaders implicated in culpable conspiracies. But 
never could they justify the sweeping, indiscriminate 
banishment of a whole people, and still less the cruel 
manner in which it was carried out. This expulsion 
of the Moriscoes was a fatal blow to agriculture, as 
well as to several branches of industry, in the southern 
provinces of Spain. 

The reforms proposed by his council to Philip 
were, says a late historian, " the alleviation of the 
burdens which weighed on the agriculturists, the for- 
cible residence of the senores with their tenants and 
vassals, the dismissal of a whole army of placemen, 
the resumption of improvident grants to favourites, 
the enforcement of the old sumptuary laws, and the 
gradual diminution of monastic houses." * The Cor- 
tes, too, though for seventy years reduced to the 
third estate, and possessing only the power of re- 
monstrance, urged these reforms on a benevolent, but 
too inactive prince. He admitted the wisdom of 
these measures, but had not the energy of character 
to carry them into effect. 

The statesm-an to whom Philip almost entirely 
abandoned the reins of government, was the Duke de 
Lerma, and, later, Don Rodrigo Calderon, originally 
a page in the service of that minister. The duke was 
a well-meaning minister, but without the talents equal 
to his arduous office. Calderon, on the other hand, 
was an able, but reckless and ambitious man. 
* Dunham, Hist, of Spain, vol. v., p, 90. 



War of Succession. 7 

Philip III. was followed by his son, Philip IV., who 
succeeded to the throne when he was only in his 
seventeenth year, and reigned from 162 1 to 1665. 
This king, in his long reign, wholly gave himself up 
to amusements and festivities, utterly neglected the 
affairs of the state, and abandoned the reins of go- 
vernment to an unworthy favourite, the Count-Duke 
Olivares. 

The chief events in this reign are the recognition of 
the independence of the seven united provinces ; the 
insurrection of the Catalans, provoked by a violation 
of their ancient privileges ; the revolt of the Portu- 
guese, who, by a unanimous rising of all orders of 
the state, threw off the yoke of Spanish domination, 
by which they had been for sixty years oppressed; 
the loss of Cerdagne, Roussillon, and a considerable 
portion of the Netherlands, to the French, and of the 
island of Jamaica, to the English. 

In the internal administration, Olivares made some 
judicious reforms; but most of his measures were 
characterised by levity, rashness, and violence. He 
followed no steady, consistent line of policy ; while 
his rapacity and haughtiness, by making so many his 
personal enemies, raised up great obstacles to the 
execution of his projects. Agriculture languished, 
commerce declined, manufactures were decaying, 
population was dwindling away ; yet amid the gene- 
ral poverty of the nation, the court during this long, 
reign continued to be the scene of banquets, revels. 



8 Spain. 

and very beautiful, but too costly theatrical entertain- 
ments. 

Abroad, the arms of Spain — in Italy and the Low- 
Countries — met with frequent reverses. Her galleons, 
laden with the treasures of America, were sometimes 
intercepted; and the vessels of even smaller states 
sometimes insulted her coasts with impunity. 

The chief command of the royal armies frequently 
devolved on a natural son of the king's, Don Juan of 
Austria, who on many occasions displayed in the field 
considerable prowess and skill His failure in the 
conduct of the campaign in Portugal was, in a great 
degree^ to be ascribed to the enmity borne him by the 
queen, who, out of envy, diverted the supplies in- 
tended for his army. This mutual hostility was one 
of the causes of the weakness and the distraction that, 
in the following reign, brought dishonour on the public 
counsels. 

Philip IV. dying in the year 1665, left the vast 
heritage of the Spanish monarchy to a weakly boy, 
then only in his fourth year. Tliis child was pro- 
claimed king, under the name of Charles II. ; and in 
his long inglorious reign of thirty-five years, Spain 
sank to the lowest degree of political weakness. 
During his minority, the queen-dowager and her con- 
fessor, father Nitard, a German Jesuit, were at the 
head of affairs ', but they were in open conflict with 
Don Juan, who was the favourite of the people. 

In the field the Spaniards were very unsuccessful ; 



War of Succession. 9 

for after the treacherous conduct of the court during 
the campaign in Portugal, Don Juan of Austria was 
unwilling to take the command of the troops in the 
Netherlands. The important province of Franche 
Comte, with which the emperor Charles V. had en- 
riched the Spanish heritage, was now irretrievably 
lost ; and but for the timely interference of England, 
Holland, and Sweden, the Netherlands would have 
shared the same fate. 

At home the council was composed of a junto of 
most incompetent nobles ; and an alternation of crude, 
precipitate, and sometimes fatal measures, revoked 
soon after they were passed, alarmed and disgusted 
the nation. Factious contests at court, the decay of 
agriculture and industry, the stagnation of trade, and 
the growing impoverishment of the people, were aggra- 
vated by physical calamities, like hurricanes, inunda- 
tions, and fires. 

The king, on attaining his majority, called Don 
Juan to the helm of affairs, but his administration 
was as bad as that of the queen-dowager's, which by 
fraud and force he had supplanted. The ill success 
of the Spanish arms, the arrogance of mien displayed 
by the new minister, the severe persecutions he car- 
ried on against all whom he regarded as his rivals or 
his foes, and the neglect of all the great interests of 
the state, rendered him extremely unpopular. His 
opponents were plotting his downfall, when chagrin 
and disappointment put an end to his days. The 



lo Spain. 

queen-dowager then returned to court, to resume the 
web of intrigue. 

The king, Charles II., as he advanced in Ufe, 
became more infirm in body, and more imbecile in 
mind. The feeble, palsied monarch well represented, 
according to the remark of Lord Macaulay, the state 
of impotence to which the once powerful Spanish 
monarchy was then reduced. But under that out- 
ward debility this historian failed to discern the latent 
energies of character, which the War of Succession 
soon called forth in every province of the Peninsula, 
and which became more and more apparent in the 
whole history of the eighteenth century, as well as of 
the present age. This truth did not escape the obser- 
vation of Lord Mahon, now Earl of Stanhope, who, 
though devoid of the brilhant rhetorical powers of 
Lord Macaulay, yet^ possesses a much larger fund of 
good sense, as well as a more impartial spirit. 

The king was twice married, but had no issue by 
either of his queens. At the age of thirty-five his 
wrinkled brow and bald head gave him the aspect of 
extreme old age. In consequence of his increasing 
infirmities of body and mind, the courts of Europe, 
in 1698, began to concert measures in regard to the 
succession of the Spanish monarchy ; for disputes as 
to the possession of so vast an empire could not fail 
to endanger the peace of nations. The three claim- 
ants to the throne of Spain were, — first, the Dauphin 
of France, as the eldest son of Queen Maria Theresa, 



War of Succession. 1 1 

eldest daughter of Philip IV. ; the second was the 
Emperor Leopold of Germany, who was not only- 
descended from the Emperor Ferdinand I., brother 
of Charles V., but whose mother was a daughter of 
Philip III. j and the third was the Prince-Elector of 
Bavaria, whose mother was the only daughter of the 
Infanta Margarita, a younger daughter of Philip 
IV. Of these three claimants, the Prince-Elector 
of Bavaria died before the throne of Spain became 
vacant. Of the two surviving claimants, the right of 
the Dauphin of France seemed the best established. 

Charles II. naturally inclined to the Austrian 
dynasty, and secretly favoured the pretensions of the 
archduke. His claims were of course supported by 
Charles's second spouse, who was an Austrian prin- 
cess, as well as by most of the courtiers. But the 
pretensions of the Dauphin were backed by the 
powerful influence of the able and intriguing Cardinal 
Portocarrero, archbishop of Toledo ; his views were 
shared by many Castilian nobles, who thought that 
justice and poHcy alike commended the French 
prince to the choice of the Spanish people, while the 
gold and intrigues of the French court brought over 
others to the same side. The Austrian party were 
desirous that the Cortes should decide the question 
of succession; while the advocates of the Dauphin 
seemed to dread their convocation. A junto of 
divines, called by Cardinal Portocarrero, decided in 
favour of Philip Duke of Anjou, to whom his father 



1 2 Spain. 

the Dauphin had resigned his rights ; and this deci- 
sion was ratified by Pope Innocent XII. 

At length Charles, after long hesitation, and with a 
heavy heart, appoints the grandson of Louis XIV., 
Philip Duke of Anjou, his successor on the Spanish 
throne. At the same time he names a regency, headed 
by the Archbishop of Toledo, the Cardinal Porto- 
carrero, to govern Spain until the arrival of the Duke 
of Anjou. 

Charles 11., who had been for a long time in a 
state of the greatest mental debility and bodily weak- 
ness, closed his disastrous reign on the first day of 
November 1700. 

In the following year Philip Duke of Anjou made 
his public entry into Madrid, and was warmly received 
by the inhabitants. His grave and even melancholy 
deportment, and his religious character, made a most 
favourable impression on the Spaniards. But his 
indolence and apathy of temper, rare even among 
princes, rendered him an easy tool in the hands of 
any who sought to obtain an influence over him. 
Hence the extraordinary sway which Louis XIV., 
and the ministers and court favourites that succes- 
sively won his favour, exerted over his mind. 

The Cardinal Portocarrero, who had been long 
devoted to the interests of the French court, was, 
through the influence of Louis XIV., made head of 
the administration. The same influence was also 
evinced in the selection of the Princess Maria Theresa 



War of Stcccesszon. i^ 

of Savoy for the bride of the young king. This prin- 
cess was, however, deprived of all her native house- 
hold ; and the only lady of her suite that was allowed 
to accompany her to Madrid, was the Princess Orsini, 
who was made her camerara mayor, or lady of the 
bed-chamber. The Princess Orsini was a French- 
woman by birth, belonging to the illustrious house of 
La Tremouille, and had been twice married, first to a 
Talleyrand, the Prince of Chalais, and afterwards to 
a Spanish grandee, Flavio d'Orsini, Duke of Bracciano. 
She was remarkable for acuteness of mind, consider- 
able knowledge of the world, and was well acquainted 
with the language and the manners of Spain, where 
for several years she had resided. Her intimacy with 
Mdme. de Maintenon, combined with feehngs of 
patriotism on the one hand, and with a sense of gra- 
titude towards her patron, Louis XIV., on the other, 
rendered her of course entirely devoted to the interests 
of France. Her address, her insinuating manners, and 
superior intellect, soon insured her an unbounded 
sway over the queen, and through her, over her royal 
consort. 

The young French prince was crowned king of 
Spain under the title of Philip V. He and his queen 
opened, in Barcelona, the Cortes of Catalonia ; and 
after making some concessions to that long ill-treated 
province, they obtained some subsidies. The king 
having been called away into Italy to repress dis- 
turbances in the Neapolitan and the Milanese terri- 



14 Spain. 

tories, the queen, by his direction, opened at Sara- 
gossa the Cortes of Aragon. They granted a con- 
siderable subsidy of 100,000 crowns ; but the question 
as to the confirmation of certain privileges demanded 
by the Cortes, was put off until the return of the king 
from Italy. 

Meantime the prime minister. Cardinal Portocar- 
rero, finding his country in so impoverished and dila- 
pidated a condition, exerted his utmost efforts to 
retrieve her fortunes. He abolished useless offices, 
reduced the expenses of the royal household, and 
revoked various pensions and grants. His retrench- 
ments were, however, in some instances injudicious j 
while the haughtiness of his deportment, and his 
severe persecution of the nobles who were favour- 
able to the Austrian archduke, provoked much dis- 
content and hostility. 

Finding the finances of the country in so deplor- 
able a state, he procured from Louis XIV. the assist- 
ance of an able French financier, Jean Orri, to whom 
he committed this department of the administration. 
The low birth of this official provoked the contempt 
of many of the Spanish nobles ; the feeling of alien- 
ation was increased by the arrogance of his manners ; 
and the discontent of those who suffered by his finan- 
cial reforms augmented the number of his enemies. 
But Orri has the great merit of having commenced 
those fiscal and commercial improvements, which 
were afterwards carried to such perfection by La 



War of Succession. 15 

Ensenada and the other distinguished statesmen of 
the following reigns. 

The growth of French influence at the court, and 
the influx of a number of French adventurers into the 
country, added to the public discontent. The image 
of the ancient Cortes rose again before the Spanish 
mind ; and the nobles, in demanding them, declared 
that without their convocation the financial reforms 
of Orri could not obtain the force of law. To a 
demand so just and reasonable Philip gave a decided 
refusal. 

While engaged in hostilities with Prince Eugene 
in Lombardy, the king was, by a sudden turn in public 
affairs, called back to Spain. 

Some measures adopted by Louis XIV. against the 
commerce of the Dutch and English, as well as his 
imprudent recognition of the Pretender to the British 
throne, the son of James II., drew those two powers 
into a close alliance with Austria. The chief objects 
of this alliance were to prevent the annexation of 
Spain to the crown of France, to place the Austrian 
Archduke Charles on the throne of the former country, 
to rescue the Netherlands from the grasp of France, 
and to exclude the subjects of the latter from all trade 
with Spanish America. 

Here commences the long war of the Spanish 
Succession. 

WiUiam III., king of England, so long the soul of 
the anti-Gallic, league, died during the preparations 



1 6 Spain. 

for this contest; but under his successor, Queen 
Anne, it was prosecuted with vigour. Over Ger- 
many, the Low Countries, Italy, and Spain did the 
flame of hostihties spread. But it is the operations 
of the war in the last-named country, that will alone 
engage our attention. 

For twelve long years (1702-14) a sanguinary con- 
flict, that partook of the nature as well of civil as of 
foreign warfare, ravaged the fertile plains, and desol- 
ated the fair cities of the Peninsula. The fortunes of 
the war were singularly various, and victory alter- 
nately crowned the arms of the rival aspirants to the 
Spanish throne. 

In 1702 an expedition of thirty English and twenty 
Dutch vessels, carrying 1 1,000 men, under the com- 
mand of the Duke of Ormond, was sent against 
Cadiz. The English and Dutch, proclaiming the 
Austrian Archduke Charles, encountered, to their sur- 
prise, from the inhabitants of Cadiz, the most ener- 
getic resistance. The expedition of the allies ended 
in the most disastrous failure. 

The Admiral of Castile, who in the reign of Charles 
II. had been possessed of considerable influence at 
court, now having become jealous of the great power 
of Cardinal Portocarrero, entered into secret corre- 
spondence with the cabinet of Vienna. Suspected of 
hostile intrigues by the government, he was sent on 
an embassy to France ; but fearing he might be 
imprisoned by Louis XIV., he, after three days' 



War of Succession, 1 7 

journey towards the French frontier, suddenly turned 
aside from his route, and fled to Lisbon. Here the 
admiral succeeded in inducing the king of Portugal, 
Pedro II., to join in the confederacy against PhiHp 
V. He signed a treaty with the Portuguese king, 
whereby the latter, on condition of his furnishing an 
army of 15,000 men at his own expense, and another 
of 13,000 at the charge of the alHes, should by way of 
indemnity receive some of the frontier fortresses and 
cities of Spain. This disgraceful treaty was sanc- 
tioned by the Austrian archduke, who thus consented 
to dismember the kingdom over which he was seek- 
ing to reign, and whose integrity, if successful in his 
efforts, he would be bound by oath to uphold. 

Philip, on his return from Italy, found the court a 
focus of intrigues. The Princess Orsini, through her 
influence with Louis XIV., had brought about the 
recall of a succession of French ambassadors. Dis- 
gusted with these incessant changes. Cardinal Porto- 
carrero had, in the meantime, retired from the helm 
of affairs. 

The Abbe d'Estrees, a French envoy, happened by 
his presumption to incur the displeasure of the king 
and queen j but by charges he alleged against the 
Princess Orsini, he involved her in his own disgrace, 
and brought about her removal from court. The 
queen, indignant at the removal of her friend, made a 
point to thwart all the proposals and the projects of 
Louis XIV., till the latter found it more conducive to 



1 8 Spain. 

his interests to recommend the recall of the favourite 
to court. 

The talents of the Princess Orsini have been much 
extolled; but to me they appear better adapted for 
petty intrigues, than for the steady prosecution of 
great schemes of policy. Under her sway, at least, 
the cabinet of Madrid evinced little energy and little 
spirit of union. 

In the midst of these court cabals, in pursuance of 
the treaty concluded by the Admiral of Castile, twelve 
thousand EngHsh and Dutch troops, under the com- 
mand of the Duke de Schomberg, landed in 1704 on 
the Portuguese shores. They were soon joined by 
the Archduke Charles in person. To this army the 
combined Spanish and French forces, commanded by 
the Duke of Berwick, an illegitimate son of our James 
II., were opposed. Accompanied by Philip V. in 
person, they marched in three divisions into Portugal, 
and successively besieged and took the border for- 
tresses of that country. In despite of the energetic 
opposition of the Portuguese peasantry, the dis- 
tinguished commander, the Duke of Berwick, ad- 
vanced to a position not far from Lisbon. The mis- 
conduct of a Spanish general alone prevented him 
from marching directly on that city. He was now 
forced to retreat ; and the able Portuguese com- 
mander. Das Minas, defeated the Spanish general, 
Ronquillo, and retook some of the fortresses reduced 
by Berwick. At last the Spanish and French troops, 



War of Succession. 1 9 

in despite of their recent brilliant successes, were 
compelled to recross the frontier. 

After the summer heats had passed away, hostili- 
ties were resumed. But the army of Berwick, thinned 
by disease, and thwarted in its operations by con- 
tradictory orders from the court of Madrid, was un- 
able to achieve any victory over the allied troops. 
Towards the close of the campaign, the general him- 
self, who had scorned to conciliate the good graces 
of the reigning favourite, was recalled from his post. 

While the fortunes of the war remained thus un- 
decided in Portugal, an expedition, under the Prince 
of Darmstadt, and the English admiral. Sir George 
Rooke, sailed for Barcelona. But after an ineffectual 
attempt to raise that city in behalf of the Austrian 
archduke, the expedition returned to Portugal. On 
their passage, however, they were fortunate enough 
to take the strong fortress of Gibraltar. 

In the following year, 1705, fortune was far more 
propitious to the arms of England and of her allies. 
Emboldened by the splendid victories of Marlborough 
in Germany and the Low Countries, our government 
sent an army of 15,000 men, under Lord Peter- 
borough, to the banks of the Tagus. The Prince of 
Darmstadt, who had served in the Catalan army 
during the former insurrection of that province, and 
therefore well understood the spirit of its inhabitants, 
persuaded the Archduke Charles to direct his forces 
to Barcelona, and there to erect his standard. His 



20 Spain, 

counsel was followed. The allied troops embarked 
for the eastern coasts of Spain, were welcomed by 
many in the seaports of Valencia, and at last were 
landed near Barcelona. Here Lord Peterborough, 
by a very bold stratagem, gained the fortress of 
Montjuich, which commanded that city; and it was 
not long ere, thanks to his skill and courage, the city 
itself fell into his hands. This conquest was the sig- 
nal for almost all the Catalonian cities to proclaim 
the Archduke Charles ; and the contagion of enthu- 
siasm spread to the neighbouring provinces of 
Aragon, Valencia, and Murcia, bound as they were 
together by a community of language, customs, and 
institutions. 

Having obtained a considerable reinforcement 
from his grandfather, the king of France, Philip 
intrusted the command of the army on the Portu- 
guese frontier to the Duke of Berwick, and, attended 
by Marshal Tesse, proceeded himself, with his main 
force, towards the east of Spain, in order to invest 
Barcelona. Here he encountered the most strenuous 
resistance from every class of the inhabitants. But 
that city was about to surrender to the superior forces 
brought against it, when suddenly a British squadron 
hove in sight. The French fleet, without firing a 
gun, shamefully sailed away to the coast of France; 
and Philip in the night hastily withdrew his army 
from its entrenchments, but in his retreat was much 
harassed by the pursuit of the active Peterborough. 



War of Succession. 2 1 

To avoid Aragon, which was rising up in arms against 
him, he was compelled to take refuge on the Frencfe 
territory. Thence, without escort, he repaired to 
Pampeluna, and at last made his way to the capital. 

Gloomy, indeed, were his prospects at this period. 
In the Low Countries Marlborough had won signal 
victories; a French army had been nearly annihilated 
in the north of Italy ; while in the west of Spain the 
small force under Berwick was unable to cope with 
the much superior numbers of the confederates. The 
court was advised to leave the capital for Burgos; 
and scarcely had Philip gone out of its gates, when 
the combined English and Portuguese armies, under 
Galway and Das Minas, amounting to 30,000 men, 
made their triumphal entry into Madrid. This event 
occurred in 1706. 

Philip bore his reverses with admirable fortitude. 
His reliance on the valour and fidelity of the Span- 
iards was unshaken ; and well did the sequel justify 
his confidence. In every part of central, southern, 
and western Spain, the people rose up in his cause. 
Estremadura alone furnished and equipped 12,000 
men; and Salamanca, as soon as the confederates 
quitted its walls, erected the standard of Philip, and 
intercepted the enemy's supphes and communications 
from Portugal. 

Charles had tarried too long in Aragon, and so 
had allowed Berwick time greatly to augment his 
forces. The capital was anxiously awaiting a detach- 



22 Spain. 

ment from that general's army, in order openly to ' 
declare its adhesion to the cause of Philip. The 
archduke, thus prevented from marching on the capi- 
tal, found, at the same time, his communications cut 
off with Portugal, with Aragon, and with Andalusia, 
where the inhabitants had risen up in arms, and pro- 
claimed his rival. Reduced to these straits by the 
strategic operations of the able Berwick, the Arch- 
duke Charles was compelled to retreat into the king- 
dom of Valencia. His retreat was, however, harassed 
by the attacks of the French general; and in this 
pursuit Philip himself joined, as far as the confines of 
Murcia. Thence he returned to Madrid, where, amid 
the enthusiastic acclamations of the inhabitants, he 
made his solemn entry. 

Meantime Berwick, after reducing important for- 
tresses in Valencia and Murcia, advanced into the 
plains of Almanza in the latter province, and there 
gained a signal victory over the allied troops, com- 
manded by Gal way and Das Minas. This victory, 
which was won in the year 1707, eventually secured 
the triumph of the Bourbon dynasty. The war, it is 
true, was for several years prolonged, and with alter- 
nate success to both parties engaged ; but, after this 
defeat, the alhes lost for ever their prestige in Spain. 

PhiHp, though as regards persons he evinced great 
forbearance towards the partisans of the house of 
Austria, yet, by depriving the province of Aragon of 
her ancient fueros, inflicted a deadly wound, not on 



War of Succession. 23 

her prosperity only, but on the general wellbeing of 
the whole kingdom. The same fatal measure he 
meditates against Catalonia, too, when she shall fall 
under his dominion. The old rivalry between the 
kingdom of Castile on the one hand, and that of 
Aragon, Catalonia, and Valencia on the other, was 
yet far from extinct, and came out very strongly in 
this War of Succession. It is singular that the in- 
habitants of the same country, bound by the ties 
of rehgion, blood, and language, (though with strong 
dialectic differences,) and for more than two cen- 
turies united under the same government, should, on 
such a secondary question as the choice of a Bourbon 
or of a Hapsburg for a ruler, (when, too, the titles 
and the merits of the two claimants were so nearly 
balanced,) have engaged in such a bloody and pro- 
tracted conflict. Let it be remembered, also, that 
the abolition of the Cortes and of the fueros was not 
the cause, but the effect of the resistance made by the 
Aragonese, the Catalans, and the Valencians to the 
claims of Philip V. to the throne. Perhaps from the 
first they suspected despotic designs in a grandson of 
Louis XIV. On the other hand, the opposition of 
the Castilians to the Austrian archduke seems to have 
been chiefly inspired by the dread that he would con- 
sent to a dismemberment of that empire, which was 
their glory and their pride — the noble heritage of their 
heroic fathers. 

In the campaign of 17 10 the arms of Philip were 



24 Spain. 

rarely favoured by fortune. He failed in an attempt 
on the town of Balaguer ; and at Almenara, and near 
Saragossa, was successively defeated by the distin- 
guished Austrian general. Stahremberg. Then he was 
compelled to retreat to Madrid, but shortly afterwards 
was under the necessity of again transferring his resi- 
dence from that capital to a provincial city. On this 
occasion he selected Valladohd. At the same time 
his finances were in a most disordered condition ; 
and, what w^as still w^orse, Louis XIV. intimated to 
him that, from his sad military reverses, he might be 
compelled by his enemies to sacrifice the interests of 
his own grandson. 

But no disasters could shake the loyalty of the 
noble Castihans. The excesses of the English troops 
under general Stanhope, and their indecent outrages 
on Catholic worship, exasperated to the highest pitch 
the feelings of the inhabitants of Madrid, Toledo, and 
other cities, and tended to alienate them still more 
from their ally, the Austrian archduke. 

Disgusted with his reception in the capital, this 
prince again abruptly quitted it, and for the last time. 

Meanw^hile the troops of Philip obtained various 
advantages on the w^estem frontier; and Marshal 
Vendome, having succeeded in the command of the 
army to the Duke of Orleans, who had been recalled, 
resolved to prosecute the war with the greatest vigour. 
Accompanied by Philip, Vendome overtook General 
Stanhope, at the head of 5000 men, near Brihuega in 



War of Succession. 2 5 

Aragon. These troops were mostly English, and, 
under the greatest disadvantages, made a most des- 
perate resistance against superior force. The Austrian 
general, Stahremberg, coming to the aid of his ally, 
an engagement took place, which was carried on with 
alternate success on both sides, and which, on the 
whole, might be considered a drawn battle. The 
advantage, however, was on the side of the French ; 
for before daybreak the alHes, pursued by Vendome, 
made a hasty and disastrous retreat to Barcelona. 

These disasters, and the constant drain of English 
blood and treasure, made our people disinclined to 
the continuance of the war. At this time, too, an 
event occurred, which served to confirm this feeling. 
In April 1 7 1 1 died the German emperor, Joseph I. \ 
and his brother, the Archduke Charles, succeeded 
him on the throne of Austria, and was shortly after- 
wards elected to the imperial crown. By this occur- 
rence the prosecution of the war was rendered utterly 
futile; for henceforth the so-dreaded preponderance 
of power would lie not on the side of the French, but 
of the Austrian, aspirant to the throne of Spain. 

This view of the matter was taken by the new 
Tory ministry of Queen Anne, who made to Louis 
XIV. secret overtures, that were gladly accepted by 
the French monarch. At length preliminaries to a 
secret treaty between England and France were 
signed ; and it was agreed that in the following year 
conferences should be opened at Utrecht for the 



26 Spain, 

general pacification of Europe. At last, in despite of 
the opposition of the German emperor to these ne- 
gotiations, and after Louis XIV. had sworn that the 
crowns of France and of Spain should never be united 
on the same head, and after Philip V. had renounced 
for himself and his successors all claims to the French 
throne, the great Treaty of Utrecht was signed, on 
nth April 17 13, by the ambassadors of all the sove- 
reigns, except the German emperor. 

Its main provisions were as follows : — The Duke 
of Anjou, under the title of Phihp V., was acknow- 
ledged king of Spain and the Indies ; Sicily, with the 
regal title, was ceded to the Duke of Savoy; and 
Milan, Naples, Sardinia,* and the Netherlands to 
the German emperor; Gibraltar, Minorca, St Chris- 
topher's, with the monopoly of the asiento^ or supply 
of slaves to the Spanish colonies, were confirmed to 
the English ; while a general amnesty was guaran- 
teed to the Catalans, without, however, any stipula- 
tion for the maintenance of their ancient fueros. 

Thus, with the loss of many of her most valuable 
European possessions, Spain saw the long and san- 
guinary War of Succession ended. On the part of 
England and Holland, the war had been clearly as 
unjust in its origin, as it was unsuccessful in its re- 
sult. Under the pretext of a remote contingency of 
danger, of the possible disturbance of the balance of 

* In 1720 the king of Sicily exchanged that island for Sar- 
dinia with the German emperor. 



Philip V. 27 

power by the future union of the French and Spanish 
crowns on the same head, the aUies arbitrarily inter- 
fered in the internal concerns of Spain, and sought 
to impose on the reluctant majority of her people a 
sovereign of their own choice. It was natural for 
Austria to strive to place on the Spanish throne one 
of her own archdukes, supported, as his pretensions 
were, by a considerable portion of the nation. Her 
interests, her glory, the remembrance of her old con- 
nexion with Spain, rendered her intervention in the 
War of Succession a measure at once natural and 
reasonable. -But as concerns the allies, surely they 
might have seen that, in the event of the archduke's 
success in the war, the union of Spain and of Austria 
was far more probable, and scarcely less formidable 
to Europe, than the union of France and of Spain. 

Then, with respect to the noble Catalans, the con- 
duct of the allies, and especially of England, which had 
drawn them into the war, and then in the treaty of 
peace had neglected to stipulate for the maintenance 
of their ancient privileges, was most discreditable. 
A faint representation made by the English ministry 
to the court of Madrid was not sufficient to redeem, 
on this point, the national honour. Philip, indeed, 
proffered to the Catalans a full, unconditional am- 
nesty \ but he declined to guarantee the preservation 
of their Cortes and of their fueros. Abandoned by 
Austria, abandoned by England, this brave people 
yet made a most noble defence in behalf of their 



28 Spain. 

ancient liberties. An overwhelming army, with a 
large train of artillery, was sent into the province, 
and with much difficulty succeeded in reducing all 
the fortresses, except Cardena and Barcelona. This 
city defended itself with all the energy of despair ; 
every order of citizens vied with the other in acts of 
heroic courage ; the priest led on the combatants by 
example, as well as by word ; and patriotism nerved 
the arm even of woman. For months did this siege 
endure ) the assaults of the mihtary were constantly 
repelled by the people; the breaches made by the 
artillery in the walls were immediately filled up ; and 
in the martial unanimity of the inhabitants — in the 
unflinching tenacity of resistance — in the sublime 
desperation of undisciplined courage — the siege of 
Barcelona is matched only by the heroic death- 
struggle of the Saragossa of our times. Before the 
last stronghold of Catalonian freedom could be 
stormed, the genius of Berwick and the reinforce- 
ment of 24,000 Frenchmen were needed. 

On the 1 2th September 17 14 the noble city ca- 
pitulated. " Twenty-four of the ringleaders/' says 
Dunham, " were committed to a perpetual imprison- 
ment; a bishop, with two hundred of the clergy, 
banished to Italy; the inhabitants of Catalonia, be- 
low the rank of nobles, were disarmed; and the 
fueros were rigorously abohshed." * 

* History of Spain, vol. v., p. 145. 



Philip V. 29 

On the impolicy, as well as the injustice of this 
abolition, I shall have occasion to speak later. 

In the year 17 14 died the queen, who had so 
long upheld the spirit and courage of her royal con- 
sort in the arduous, protracted contest that had just 
ended. This amiable princess was, after an agitated 
career, not permitted to enjoy the blessings of peace. 
She left two sons, the infantes, Luis and Fernando. 

After her decease, the Princess Orsini continued to 
enjoy the same, and even greater influence at court. 
She became now more than ever necessary to Philip ; 
but her ambitious and intriguing spirit rendered her 
more and more unpopular. Convinced that the king 
would not long remain unmarried, she resolved to 
select some princess, whose easy and pliant disposi- 
tion would render her, like the late queen, subser- 
vient to her views. It was at this time she first 
became acquainted with an individual who described 
to her a princess possessed of exactly the same quali- 
ties which she was looking for, and who offered him- 
self as a medium for negotiating the royal alliance. 
This was the abate, afterwards the famous Cardinal 
Alberoni j and here is the fitting place to introduce 
this historical personage to your notice. 

Alberoni was born in the environs of Parma in the 
year 1664, and was the son of a gardener. After the 
due course of preparatory studies, he was ordained 
priest. He was exercising the sacred ministry when, 
during the War of the Spanish Succession, he hap- 



30 Spain. 

pened to be introduced to the Duke de Vendome, 
the general of the French troops in Italy. The 
general was so pleased with his manners and conver- 
sation, that he immediately took him into his service. 
The abate accompanied the duke to Paris, and on 
the latter being appointed to the embassy of Madrid, 
followed him to that capital. There Alberoni was 
presented at court, where he made a most favourable 
impression on the mind of the Spanish monarch. 

His own sovereign, the Duke of Parma, now ap- 
pointed him his agent to the Spanish court. At this 
time Alberoni, who was more and more ingratiating 
himself in the favour of Philip and of the Princess 
Orsini, conceived the bold design of negotiating a 
marriage between this prince and the niece of the 
Duke of Parma, Elizabeth Farnese. By such a 
measure he hoped to lay a solid foundation for his 
future fortunes; for ties of gratitude, as well as of 
country, would, in all probability, bind the future 
queen of Spain to him, and render him, in a manner, 
necessary to her counsels. 

By representing Elizabeth Farnese as of a gentle, 
flexible temper, he easily obtained the concurrence of 
the Princess Orsini; and then, having received the 
formal assent of Philip to the proposed alliance, he 
proceeded to Parma with the greatest expedition. 
There he perfectly succeeded in the object of his 
mission, and conducted the affair with such secrecy, 
that the whole court was kept in utter ignorance of 



Philip V. 31 

the transaction. The Princess Orsini having learned 
the true character of EHzabeth Farnese, despatched 
a trusty messenger to Parma to prevent the nuptials 
by proxy. He arrived the very day the nuptials were 
to be celebrated ; but as the object of his mission 
was suspected, he was not admitted within the walls 
of the city till the ceremony was concluded. Albe- 
roni then brought back the royal bride to Spain. The 
king went ta Alcala to meet her ; but no sooner had 
the favourite been presented to her, than she received 
peremptory orders to quit the Spanish territory. The 
exile, which was counselled by Alberoni, removed 
every obstacle to his ambitious projects. Not long 
after her arrival at Madrid, the new queen appointed 
him to be her private secretary. He was then, 
through her influence, made prime minister, and 
grandee of Spain ; and some time afterwards the king 
procured from the Pope the cardinal's hat for the 
favoured minister. 

"Alberoni," says a modern historian, "worked 
eighteen hours a day. He re-established order in the 
finances \ he encouraged industry \ he founded a cloth 
manufactory at Guadalaxara, inviting thither dyers 
from England, and five thousand famihes of artisans, 
with their utensils, from Holland. The native wool 
could thus be wrought in the country, and the army 
clothed with the products of national industry. Table- 
linen could thus be manufactured at Madrid. Four 
hundred nuns were taught to spin as in Holland, and 



32 Spain. 

all foundlings brought up to that sort of work. Fac- 
tories of crystal were opened, husbandry flourished, 
and many large desert tracts of Spain teemed with 
population. The expenses of the administration were 
reduced, and numberless places in the royal house- 
hold suppressed. The trade with the colonies was 
protected; the clergy forced to contribute to the 
public burdens ; the wealthier classes were taxed ; 
government offices sold ; and the smugglers of Ara- 
gon enlisted into the army. By these measures Spain 
soon acquired an army of 65,000 men, a powerful 
navy, a well-appointed artillery j and the city of Bar- 
celona could shew one of the best citadels." * 

" To lessen," says Coxe, " the introduction of 
foreign manufactures, which had hitherto filled the 
markets, to the detriment of those of Spain, Alberoni 
formed a new tariff of duties, abrogated many indul- 
gences, and established superintendents in different 
parts to prevent abuses. He aboHshed one of the 
last remnants of the ancient division into separate 
kingdoms, by removing most of the inland custom- 
houses to the frontier, and restoring to full liberty the 
interior communications and traffic, "t 

Had Alberoni confined his attention to reforms in 
the internal administration of Spain, he would have 
been a great benefactor to that country, and have 
deserved her eternal gratitude. But the wild, ex- 

* Cesar Cantu, Hist. Univ., t. ix., p. 171-2. 
+ The Bourbons in Spain, vol. ii., p. 377. 



Philip V, 33 

travagant schemes of foreign policy in which he 
embarked, involved in hostilities a country which so 
much needed repose, and brought about his own 
ruin. He must needs, after the bloody, protracted 
War of Succession which had ravaged Spain, waste 
her reviving energies in a fruitless struggle with the 
great powers of Europe. He must needs strive to 
place his own sovereign on the throne of France, 
which he had renounced, to re-establish the Stuarts in 
England, and, with the view of restoring the Spanish 
domination, drive out the Austrians from Italy. And 
all these grand projects are to be accomplished, not 
successively, but almost simultaneously, and with the 
aid of the mad Charles of Sweden, and of the decrepit 
Ottoman Porte. These wild projects, which arrayed 
against enervated, exhausted Spain the hostility of 
the three most powerful states in Europe, — Great 
Britain, France, and Austria, — backed, too, by the 
Dutch republic, prove that if Alberoni were an able, 
energetic administrator, as well as a dexterous diplo- 
matist and a supple courtier, he was not a statesman 
of the highest order. In the same way an orator, 
however he may dazzle by his wit and his fancy, yet 
if he often runs into turgid declamation, shews a want 
of intellectual strength. 

The plot against the Duke of Orleans, regent of 
France, in which the Duchess of Maine and several 
of the Breton nobility were impHcated, was discovered 
and suppressed by the French government. That 



34 Spain. 

government, backed in their demand by the British 
and the Austrian courts, required of PhiUp V. the 
immediate dismissal of the minister who had ren- 
dered himself so obnoxious. The king, and even his 
former protectress, the queen, hesitated not to aban- 
don a statesman who had abused their confidence, 
and had so seriously compromised the interests of 
the monarchy. The disgraced minister could hardly 
find an asylum anywhere, till at last the republic of 
Genoa threw open her portals to him. He had in- 
curred the displeasure of the reigning Pope ; his con- 
duct underwent a juridical inquiry; but after being 
sentenced to confinement in a convent for some 
time, he was liberated and restored to the favour of 
the Pontiff. 

Philip now gave in his adhesion to the quadruple 
aUiance between England, Holland, France, and 
Austria ; was acknow^ledged by his former rival, the 
German emperor, to be king of Spain and the Indies ; 
and on his ratifying his assent to the dismemberment 
of his European provinces, as determined by the Treaty 
of Utrecht, received the reversion of two Italian prin- 
cipalities for the issue of his present marriage, on the 
condition that they should not be annexed to the 
crown of Spain. 

Philip humbled the Moors of Africa, who had long 
sought to wrest Ceuta from the Spanish rule, and 
demanded the restitution of the fortress of Gibraltar, 
which, on the authority of the English government. 



Philip V. 35 

the Duke of Orleans had promised him, as the reward 
of his accession to the quadruple alliance. The 
English government, dreading the unpopularity of 
the measure, evaded the fulfilment of its promise. 
This evasion alienated Philip henceforth from the 
English alliance ; and so, down to the present day, 
this fortress has remained a bone of contention 
between the two countries. 

The marriage of his cousin, Louis XV., king of 
France, with the Polish Princess Leczinska, having 
dissipated the dream he had sometimes entertained 
of succeeding to the French crown, Philip suddenly 
resolved, in 1724, to abdicate the throne in favour of 
his eldest son, Don Luis. To this resolve, which 
had been ratified by a vow, he had been impelled 
partly by religious scruples, partly by weariness of the 
cares of government. He and his queen were bent 
on securing an Italian principality for their son, the 
Infante Don Carlos, whom they lived to see succes- 
sively Duke of Parma and King of Naples. But, like 
Charles V. from his soHtude of St Just, Philip, in his 
retirement of San Ildefonso, controlled and directed 
the counsels of his son. The court was filled with 
men attached to his interests, and devoted to his 
views. He soon began to long again for the exercise 
of royal power. At this time the death of the young 
king, Don Luis, from small-pox, opened again to 
Philip the path to the throne. In despite of the dis- 
approval of the Council of Castile, he persisted in his 



36 Spain. 

desire for the resumption of power; and having 
obtained from the Papal legate the absolution from 
his vow, he mounted again on the throne. 

To secure the interests of the Infante Don Carlos, 
Philip, disgusted with the conduct of England, France, 
and Holland, resolved to negotiate a treaty of alli- 
ance with the court of Vienna. The individual 
intrusted with this mission was the Baron de Eip- 
perda j and here is the fitting place to speak of this 
celebrated adventurer. John William, Baron de Rip- 
perda, was of an old Spanish family ; but he himself 
was born in the province of Groningen in Holland, 
towards the close of the seventeenth century. He 
was brought up in the Catholic faith, but for the sake 
of advancing his temporal interests in his native land, 
he conformed to the Protestant religion. In his 
youth he embraced the profession of arms, and 
attained to the rank of colonel in an infantry regi- 
ment. In 17 15 he was charged by the Dutch 
government with a diplomatic mission to the court of 
Madrid, and there acquitted himself of his task with 
great distinction. This first success awakened his 
ambition; and accordingly, in "the hope of obtaining 
some public employment, he resolved to settle in 
Spain. With the view to further his ambitious 
designs, and, as the sequel shews, without any very 
sincere intentions, he abjured Protestantism, and 
embraced the CathoHc faith. 

He ingratiated himself with Phifip, and communi- 



Philip V. 2>7 

cated to that monarch various projects for promoting 
the material prosperity of his dominions. He ob- 
tained permission to establish several manufactories 
in Spain ; and, moreover, won to such an. extent the 
confidence of the king, that he consulted him on the 
most important affairs of state. In 1725 Ripperda 
was intrusted with an important mission to Vienna, 
for the purpose of concluding with the German 
emperor a treaty of commerce and of alliance. His 
success in this negotiation was rewarded with the 
dignity of grandee, and even with a dukedom ; and 
he was appointed ambassador extraordinary at the 
court of Vienna. Obliged to yield to French ascen- 
dancy at that court, he returned to Madrid in 1725, 
and was immediately nominated Secretary of State 
for Foreign Affairs. Soon he was allowed to annex 
to this department the Ministry of War, and that of 
Finance. 

But the grandees were naturally indignant at seeing 
the government of the country in the hands of a 
foreign adventurer, and one, too, who had failed in 
realising the splendid promises he had made. Even 
Philip, too, began to see through the charlatanism of 
his minister. Yielding at length to his own mis- 
givings, as well as to the remonstrances of the nobles, 
he removed Ripperda from his high posts ; but he did 
not deprive him of his titles, and even promised him 
a considerable pension. 

Ripperda, however, on retiring from the ministry, 



38 Spain. 

had the imprudence to seek an asylum at the house 
of the British ambassador, Mr Stanhope. This step 
was construed into an act of conspiracy ; and the ex- 
minister was for two years confined within the castle 
of Segovia. Thence he contrived to escape, and fled 
in 1728 into Portugal. From Portugal he returned to 
Holland, and there, it is said, resumed the profession 
of Calvinism. Having been demanded by the Span- 
ish government as a state criminal, he thought it 
safer to escape from Holland, and flying to Morocco, 
entered into the service of its emperor. Here it is 
confidently stated he embraced the faith of Islam, 
and received the rite of circumcision. For several 
years he was admitted to the councils of Muley 
Abdallah, and commanded his armies ; but on the 
dethronement of that Moorish prince, he took refuge 
in Istria, and there, in the year 1737, died in the 
open profession of the CathoHc faith. 

Philip V. was a prince possessed of respectable 
talents, but devoid of energy of character. He was 
devout j but his devotion was of a timorous kind, and 
sometimes took a wrong direction. Strongly inclined 
by nature to melancholy, he loved retirement, and 
found little pleasure in society. Sometimes, for six 
months together, he would, though in good health, 
remain confined to his bed, and there sign ordinances, 
and transact business. 

A prince so weak in character, and of such indolent 
habits, was always dependent on the counsel of others. 



Philip V, 39 

Hence he was successively ruled by his grandfather, 
Louis XIV., by the governess of the young Prince of 
the Asturias, the Princess Orsini, and by his second 
wife, Elizabeth Farnese. 

In despite of this weak and irresolute character, he 
sincerely loved justice, and was zealous for the in- 
terests and the happiness of his people. 

* . . . 

His reign is marked by many wise and judicious 

measures ; and he laid the foundations for those im- 
provements in the internal government of Spain, which 
his successors happily followed out. He restored the 
navy, which the later princes of the Austrian line had 
so shamefully neglected. He remodelled mihtary 
discipline, he encouraged manufactures, and invited 
foreigners to settle in his dominions. He estabhshed 
the Royal Library of Madrid, and a college for the 
education of young nobles ; and founded the Spanish 
Academy for the improvement of the native tongue, 
and the Academy of History for the prosecution of 
researches into the national annals. 

Of those institutions Dr Southey, who, from his 
knowledge of Spanish and Portuguese history and 
literature, is a most competent witness, thus speaks : 
"Few similar institutions," says he, "have equahed 
the Royal Academies of Madrid and Lisbon in the 
zeal and ability with which they have brought to hght 
their ancient records, and elucidated the history and 
antiquities of their respective countries."* Another 
* History of the Peninsular War, vol. i., p. lo. 



40 Spain. 

French imitation was the introduction of the SaUc law 
in the order of royal succession ; — a change which, as 
it affected the fundamental laws of the monarchy, was 
accomplished only with the consent of Cortes. 

The most unwise, as well as most culpable measure 
of Philip v., was the abrogation of the Cortes of Ara- 
gon, Catalonia, and Valencia, on the pretext that those 
provinces had espoused the cause of his rival, the 
Archduke Charles. What, indeed, could be more 
futile and unjust than this pretext? For as Philip 
himself had occasional scruples as to the validity of 
the testament of Charles II., on which his claims to 
the throne of Spain were founded, how could he with 
any consistency punish Spaniards for entertaining the 
like doubts? Ought he not to have respected the 
fidelity of the Catalans and the Aragonese to their 
sense of duty — their devotedness to the prince, whom 
they considered their rightful sovereign % And, as a 
French prince, ought he not to have been especially 
chary of those pohtical rights and privileges, which all 
Spaniards, and more particularly those of the northern 
provinces, clung to so tenaciously % But unfortunately 
the monarchs of that day, and more especially the 
Bourbon kings, little perceived that popular freedom 
was the best rampart and defence of regal prerogatives. 
The eighteenth century was the era of absolutism. 
And what distinguishes the history of Spain in that 
age, was the growth in material prosperity on the one 
hand, and the decUne of popular freedom on the 



Philip V. 41 

other. For a hundred years the Spanish Bourbons 
carried on a secret, but incessant war against the re- 
maining fueros or privileges of Aragon and Catalonia, 
and against the Cortes of Biscay and of Navarre. 
Yet it was those provinces, precisely, which in our 
times have made so heroic a defence of the throne 
against the anarchical efforts of revolution. Order 
and liberty aid and support each other, and they 
who strive to separate them are the enemies of 
both. 

It is now time to speak of Philip's queen. Eliza- 
beth Farnese was a princess of Parma who, through 
the jealousy of her mother, had been brought up in 
the strictest seclusion. Those hours of privacy she 
had employed in the careful cultivation of her mind. 
She had studied several modern languages, which she 
spoke with fluency, and had acquired an elegant taste 
for the fine arts. History and politics were her fa- 
vourite pursuits, and in these matters she was better 
versed than most women of her time. This know- 
ledge she knew how to turn to account when Philip 
V. made her the partner of his throne. 

Though with no great pretensions to beauty, she 
had a graceful figure, and the most fascinating man- 
ners. Ambitious of power, she was yet cautious in 
making a display of it. She never thwarted her royal 
husband — never contradicted him ; flattered his tastes, 
and complied with his humours ; and while she seemed 
to be a passive tool in his hands, she exercised the 



42 Spain. 

most absolute sway over his mind. The better to 
insure that dominion, she encouraged Phihp's indina- 
tion to soHtude, and spent in the company of an un- 
social, hypochondriacal husband the hours she might 
have felt disposed to pass in the brilliant entertain- 
ments of the court. 

The foreign transactions of this reign enter not 
into the plan of this lecture ', but I may say, in con- 
clusion, that Philip V. was twice engaged in hostilities 
with Austria, and twice with England. His naval and 
military forces were often successful in their warlike 
operations. 

In the year 1746 Philip V. was carried off by a 
stroke of apoplexy, and was succeeded by his son,- 
Ferdinand VI. 

Ferdinand VL 

Ferdinand VL ascended the throne of Spain in 
the year 1746. He was of a delicate constitution, 
and much disposed to melancholy; and so was 
doomed to have a shorter reign than the love of his 
subjects would have fain desired. In private life he 
was distinguished for piety, virtue, the love of justice, 
frugality, and bounteous charity. In public life he 
evinced the greatest zeal in furthering the happiness 
of his people. He encouraged agriculture, commerce, 
and manufactures; he introduced greater economy 
into the administration ; he suppressed useless offices ; 
abrogated onerous taxes j placed the naval forces on a 



Ferdinand VI. 43 

satisfactory footing ; and resisting the allurements of 
ambition, the example of neighbouring states, and the 
bias of family affections, he insured to his country the 
blessings of peace, the longest peace she had known 
since the death of Philip II. 

A circumstance most honourable to Ferdinand VI. 
and his ministers was the fact, that his many useful 
reforms in the public administration were unaccom- 
panied with any encroachments on the rights of the 
church, of the nobles, and of the municipal corpora- 
tions. When we consider the false pohtical prin- 
ciples so rife in the eighteenth century, and when we 
compare the policy of this prince with that pursued 
by some of the advisers of the succeeding monarch, as 
well as with the fatal counsels so soon afterwards fol- 
lowed by the governments of Austria, Tuscany, Parma, 
Naples, and Portugal, we cannot too highly commend 
his prudence. What a critical period in the life of 
nations is the era of political reforms ! Reforms are 
needful ; but in what spirit shall they be conceived ? 
Reforms are needful j but who shall carry them out % 
Reforms are needful ; but what are to be their con- 
comitants % Reforms are needful j but what purpose 
are they to subserve % 

Such are the questions which press themselves on 
our minds, when we examine the political reforms of 
the last age — reforms in which the elements of good 
and of evil were often so strangely intermixed. 

The action of the Christian religion on human 



44 Spain. 

society had been slow and gradual. It did not enter 
into the designs of Divine Providence, that Christi- 
anity should bring about a total, immediate change in 
the temporal order of things. Social as well as moral 
renovation depended on the spontaneous co-operation 
of nations — on the character of races — on the course of 
events — on the growth of piety — on the action of emi- 
nent rulers, spiritual and temporal, as well as of great 
characters, who leave their impress on society — and 
on the gradual working out of all those influences by 
time itself In the Middle Ages the process of social 
regeneration had, indeed, reached a high point ; but 
much still remained to be accomplished, when the 
work of civilization was retarded by the religious dis- 
putes and the religious wars of the sixteenth and the 
seventeenth centuries. Civilization, arrested on some 
points, was yet advanced on others ; and therefore, 
in the eighteenth century, many improvements in 
law and in administration, in political economy and 
in physical science occurred, which the false philo- 
sophy of that age attributed to itself Yet these 
reforms were but the late fruits of that Christian 
civiHzati_on, the seeds whereof had been sown at the 
very origin of modem society. 

The most distinguished minister at the court of 
Ferdinand VI. was the Marquis la Ensenada — a 
statesman who, following out the reforming plans of 
Orri, introduced order in the finances, and achieved 
more for the agriculture, commerce, and manufac 



Ferdinand VI. 45 

tures of his country than any preceding minister. He 
cultivated peace with England and France, and all 
the neighbouring states j and this pacific pohcy, in 
which he was so well supported by his sovereign, was, 
in an age so full of political intrigue and national 
quarrels as the eighteenth century, especially laudable. 
This steady adherence to the system of peace on the 
one hand, and a spirit of prudent economy on the 
other, enabled Ferdinand to leave at his demise sixty 
million francs in the public treasury. 

Among the special measures that marked the ad- 
ministration of La Ensenada, I may notice the ordi- 
nance for facilitating the transport of corn from one 
province to another — the causeway between the two 
Castiles, and the canal of Campos between Old Castile 
and the sea. He simplified the collection of the taxes ; 
sought to abohsh the onerous impost of the millones, 
an excise duty; and was the first, by allowing 
register-ships for America, besides the flota and the 
galleons, to open the trade between Spain and her 
colonies. 

This minister spared no exertion to raise up for his 
country an efficient navy, neglected as that branch of 
the service had been since the time of Charles II.; 
and for this purpose he invited shipbuilders and en- 
gineers from foreign countries. " On the whole, a 
considerable increase in the population, four hundred 
and thirty vessels of war of various size, and a surplus 
revenue of fifty million francs : — such," says a writer 



46 Spain. 

in the " Biographic Universelle," " were the fruits of 
economy, and of the judicious measures pursued by 
an able, zealous, and honest minister." * 

Let us now turn our eyes to the other members of 
the court; and no one there claims our attention 
more than Ferdinand's amiable queen. Theresa Bar- 
bara was the daughter of John V., king of Portugal, 
and had been married to Ferdinand VL when he was 
still Prince of the Asturias. Though not distinguished 
for personal charms, she was a woman of sprightly wit 
and engaging manners. If she possessed not the 
great talents of Elizabeth Farnese, she was remark- 
able for good sense and an exquisite tact, that enabled 
her to exert great influence over the mind of her royal 
consort. Cheerful as she was in public, and passion- 
ately fond of music and the dance, she yet, like her 
husband, laboured under a constitutional melancholy. 
By complying with the tastes and dispositions of Fer- 
dinand, she exercised a sway which she never suffered 
to be felt. By never taking a direct part in great 
affairs of state, and by confining her influence to a 
recommendation of the chief ministers, she was never 
involved in the disgrace of a statesman, or in the down- 
fall of a party. This prudence was sustained and 
rendered successful by her extreme gentleness of 
manner, and her kindliness of nature. 

The only alloy in this beautiful character was an 
excessive desire for amassing wealth. She laboured 
* Biograph. Univ., t. xiii., p. 167. Paris, 1817. 



Ferdinand VI. 47 

under the apprehension that, hke many of the Spanish 
queens, she might, on the demise of her royal consort, 
be subject to many wants and privations. 

Like EHzabeth Farnese, Queen Barbara had to 
soothe and dispel the morbid melancholy of a hypo- 
chondriac husband. Hence she resorted to all the 
expedients which affection could suggest. The un- 
happy monarch would at times decline all society, 
shut himself up in his chamber, not let himself be 
shaved, and refuse almost all nourishment. These 
morbid attacks were particularly prevalent in the early 
part of his reign. Here the queen, like her prede- 
cessor, resorted to the soothing strains of the great 
Italian singer, Farinelli, And here is the proper place 
to speak of that remarkable personage. 

Broschi, called Farinelli, was a native of the city of 
Naples. He had a voice of extraordinary power and 
sweetness, and, if we are to credit the marvellous tales 
told of him, has not been equalled by any of his suc- 
cessors in the art. At the operas of Vienna and 
Naples, Paris and London, he had acquired a brilliant 
reputation, and amassed a considerable fortune. In 
the zenith of his fame, he was invited over to the 
court of Madrid to exert the tranquillizing power of his 
art on the distempered mind of Philip V. His efforts 
were crowned with signal success. At this court he 
obtained the good graces of the Prince and Princess 
of Asturias, who were struck with his amiable charac- 
ter, as well as with his wonderful musical powers. 



48 Spain. 

When the Prince of Asturias mounted on the throne, 
under the name of Ferdinand VI., FarinelH rose in 
high favour at court, and gradually acquired great 
political influence. When he delivered the king from 
the attacks of his distressing malady, and diffused 
gladness over his mind, it was impossible for the 
monarch to resist any application in his favour, made 
by the queen. Since the days of Orpheus and of 
Linus, music had never exerted so imperious a sway. 
She became once more the mistress of Nature, and 
the arbitress of right j and by chasing away mental 
and bodily distempers, and suggesting wise laws, she 
restored harmony in the state, as well as in the royal 
mind. 

Different from most men raised suddenly to power, 
FarinelH bore his good fortune with the utmost meek- 
ness, behaving to his superiors with respect, and to 
his inferiors with gentleness and kindness. He was 
often made the channel of communication between 
public men or private individuals and the queen ; 
and so was often instrumental in performing deeds 
of justice or of mercy, and in recommending wise 
measures of foreign or of domestic policy. He was 
grateful to his early friends and patrons, displayed no 
inordinate ambition, and, content with the fortune 
he had acquired, sought not to aggrandise it by new 
pensions or places. 

He was on terms of intimate friendship with the 
minister La Ensenada, to whom he lent all the weight 



Ferdinand VI. 49 

of his influence, and whom he supported in all his 
wise and beneficial measures. . 

Singular fate, indeed, of that proud Spanish aris- 
tocracy, which had once shone alike in war and in 
diplomacy, and which was now set aside, and doomed 
to see its political functions usurped by foreign up- 
starts and adventurers. A poor priest of Parma, who 
rose to be Cardinal Alberonij the Dutch charlatan 
Ripperda, who for a while strutted on the stage of 
political life ; and now an Italian musician, Farinelli, 
(the wisest of the three,) successively held the post, or 
exercised the influence, which belonged to the Medina- 
Celis, the Infantados, the Laras, and the Guzmans. 
Yet such is absolute power ! By excluding nobility 
from its proper sphere of action, by making it lose the 
knowledge and the habit of public affairs, it enervates 
it ; it renders it helpless and ignorant ; it undermines 
its existence ; it deranges the whole social hierarchy ; 
and so prepares the way for the slow decline of 
nations, to be followed in due time bj^ those social 
paroxysms which we call revolutions. 

Truly, says Mr Townsend, in alluding to the extinc- 
tion of the ancient Cortes, "The whole nation has 
suffered by this change in the constitution of their 
government; but no order in the state has lost so 
much as the nobility." * 

Ferdinand VI. made an important concordat with 

Pope Benedict XIV., by which the latter, on receiv- 

* Journey through Spain, vol. i., p, 321. 
D 



50 Spain. 

ing a certain fixed annual sum, conferred on the 
monarch the right of nomination to those benefices 
hitherto reserved to the Holy See. This conven- 
tion was attended with mutual advantages to the 
heads of Church and state. 

About the year 1759 died Queen Barbara, to 
whom the king had been most tenderly attached. 
His grief became inconsolable, and all the syinptoms 
of his former malady returned. He refused to take 
nourishment, to dress, or to shave himself, and re- 
mained shut up in his bedroom, till he at last followed 
his amiable consort to the tomb. 

Thus died an excellent prince, whose reign —too 
short, alas ! for the happiness of his people — was 
blessed with peace abroad and ^vith improvements 
at home. 

Charles III. 

Ferdinand VI. was succeeded by his brother, 
Charles III., who in the government of Naples had 
displayed considerable talents. Charles III. was a 
prince of irreproachable morals, and sincerely de- 
voted to religion. Good abilities he certainly pos- 
sessed, but they had not been cultivated with 
sufficient care. Yet French and Itafian, as well as 
his own language, he spoke with correctness and 
fluency. Exemplary in the domestic relations, he 
was withal conscientious in the discharge of all his 
public duties. 



Charles III. 51 

His chief fault was an excessive love for the chase, 
to which all the Bourbons, whether of the French or 
of the Spanish lines, are strongly addicted. This 
passion led him to an occasional neglect of pubhc 
affairs, and into too implicit a reliance on the coun- 
sels of his ministers. He called men of great abihty 
to his councils ; but, as we shall see, he often failed 
to discern the tendency of their principles. He 
was a generous patron of letters and of science.* 

* Mr Buckle (Hist, of Civ., vol. ii., p. 96) quotes Towns- 
end as saying, " The science and practice of medicine are at the 
lowest ebb in Spain, but more especially in the Asturias." He 
cites also another passage, where the same writer, after observ- 
ing that the medical students now had access to the works of 
foreign authors of repute, yet adds, " They were obliged to take 
such instruction on trust, for in their medical classes they had 
no dissections," He then quotes Godoi, who, speaking of the 
three colleges of surgery in Madrid, Barcelona, and Cadiz, says 
that until his administration in 1793, "in the capital, even that 
of San Carlos had not a lecture-room for practical instruction." 
Mr Buckle corroborates these statements by Clarke's Letters con- 
cerning the Spanish nation in 1 763, and even by the far more 
recent book, entitled "Spain," by an American, in 1831. In thus 
making out a strong case of medical ignorance against Spain, 
did not equity command Mr Buckle to state the following 
testimony as to medical reforms in the renovated university of 
Valencia, which he might have found, if it had suited his pur- 
pose, in the pages of the same Townsend ? — 

" For medicine with chemistry," says this traveller, " they (the 
rector and professors of Valencia, according to a plan of studies 
approved by the government of Charles III. in December 1786) 
have eleven professors — six permanent, the other five changed at 
the end of three years. In this science they have adopted the 
best modem authors, such as Beaume, Macquer, Murray, 
Heister, Boerhaave, Home, Van Swieten, and ' Cullen's Prac- 
tice ; ' but, unfortunately, they have overlooked his best perform- 



52 Spain. 

The Benedictine Father Feyjoo, the author of a 
sort of Hterary Encyclopsedia ; Florez, the author of 
the " Espana Sagrada;" the clever satirist, the Jesuit 
Father Isla; the statesman and pohtical economist 
Campomanes ; the fabuHst Yriarte \ and the dramatic 
poet the elder Moratin, adorned the reign of this 
monarch. Scholars like Casiri, so versed in Arabic 
literature, and the elder Yriarte, and many men of 
science, arose to vindicate Spain from the charge of 
intellectual torpor. 

Charles III. imitated, and even surpassed his two 
predecessors, Philip V. and Ferdinand VI., in the 
fostering patronage of letters, arts, and science. His 
father, as we have seen, founded the Spanish Aca- 
demy, for the improvement of the national language 
and literature, as well as the Academy of History, for 
researches into the annals of Spain. Charles III., in 

ance, which, without a question, is the ' Synopsis Nosologise 
Methodicse ;' and they appear not to be acquainted with the 
works of Haller and of Gaubius. Like the medical school at 
Edinburgh, they have a clinical ward, visited daily by the 
students, and clinical lectures given by the professors. Besides 
these, with a singular liberality of sentiment, they permit the 
professors to take what bodies they think proper from the 
hospital, to be dissected by their surgeons." 

TowQsend adds, " In medicine, to be what they call opositor — 
that is, to be admitted into the class of those who may be here- 
after candidates for a vacant chair, whether permanent or tem- 
porary — a man must have obtained two matriculas in Greek, 
two in mathematics, and one in the mechanics ; he must defend 
a thesis, and be examined in every branch of medicine, by thi-ee 
censors at least, both in public and in private." — Townsend^s 
Journey through Spain^ vol. iii., pp. 244, 247. 



Charles III. 53 

his turn, established the Academy of Painting, the 
Cabinet of Natural History, and the University of 
Valencia, celebrated for the cultivation of the physi- 
cal sciences. He arranged the botanical garden \ he 
set on foot voyages of discovery in the Pacific Ocean ; 
and Gonzales, De Monte, Ayala, and Maurelle ex- 
plored the northern, western, southerly and south- 
eastern coasts of America. '' If," says Archdeacon 
Coxe, " the names of those navigators have not at- 
tained the same celebrity as those of Anson, Cook, 
and Vancouver, Bougainville and La Peyrouse, it 
was not owing to their deficiency of merit, but to 
the jealous policy of their government in every trans- 
action connected with the American possessions." * 

If such was the zeal displayed by Charles III. in 
the patronage of the fine arts, letters, and natural 
sciences, his active encouragement of the industrial 
arts, and of all that could conduce to the material well- 
being of his subjects, was still more remarkable. " It 
is to Charles III.," says Lady Louisa Tenison, in her 
interesting " Travels through Andalusia and Castile," 
" Spain owes most of its magnificent roads, bridges, 
and canals. He planted trees to adorn the Prado, 
and to him Madrid owes the museum, the fine gate 
of Alcala, the noble buildings of the custom-house, 
and sundry others too numerous to be mentioned 
here." t It was the good fortune of this monarch to 

* Memoirs of Spanish Bourbons, vol. v., p. 218. 
t Castile and Andalusia, p. 311. 



54 Spain. 

have found most capable ministers, who, if on some 
points they committed great errors, yet introduced 
most salutary improvements in the internal adminis- 
tration of Spain. A succession of able statesmen, 
like Grimaldi, Squilace, Campomanes, and Florida 
Blanca arose, to carry out useful reforms in the finan- 
cial, industrial, commercial, and colonial policy of 
their country. Let us fix our attention on the last of 
these statesmen, Florida Blanca, who achieved more 
for the material improvement of Spain than any other 
minister of the last century, and whose administrative 
reforms were unalloyed by the irreligious principles 
of D'Aranda or the unecclesiastical notions of Cam- 
pomanes. 

Florida Blanca was born in the year 1729, and was 
the son of a provincial lawyer. He discharged for 
some time, with great distinction, the functions of 
ambassador at Rome, and was then raised to the 
dignity of prime minister by Charles III. 

This minister followed out and brought to maturity 
the system of internal policy first begun by Orri, and 
more vigorously prosecuted by La Ensenada. The 
tendency of this system was to relieve husbandry, 
commerce, and manufactures from the shackles im- 
posed by self-interest or by ignorance. The odious 
imposts of the alcavala and the millones were 
abolished. The alcavala was a tax of ten or four- 
teen per cent, on the value of all property, whether 
real or personal, agricultural or manufactured, that 



Charles III. 55 

might be sold. The millones was a very heavy 
excise duty on wine, vinegar, soap, fruits, and other 
commodities. 

The home manufactures were encouraged by 
heavier duties laid on articles of foreign industry; 
by facilities afforded for the importation of raw goods 
from other countries ; by the procuring of foreign 
machinery, and the introduction of artisans from 
abroad. 

Odious or oppressive imposts were reduced, and a 
moderate income-tax substituted in their stead. 

Great attention was also now paid by the govern- 
ment to the internal communications of the country. 
Old roads were improved, new ones constructed, and 
canals dug for facilitating intercourse between the 
different provinces of Spain. A permanent fund for 
such improvements was established by the duty on 
salt, and by the produce of the post-office. 

The canals not only facilitated the operations of 
trade, but improved the agriculture of the country. 
From the means of irrigation which the canal of 
Tudela afforded, 100,000 acres of ground were 
brought into culture, and land rose in value from 
;^i, IOJ-. to ^£"50 per acre. The same remark will 
apply to the canal from Madrid to the Tagus, and to 
the canal of Guadarrama in New Castile. 

Florida Blanca was also the first to establish dih- 
gences between Barcelona, Madrid, and Cadiz. He 
did much to embellish the capital and the provincial 



56 Spain. 

cities, as well as to improve their sanitary condition. 
Societies, under the name of patriotic, were set on 
foot by the nobles and the burgesses, for the improve- 
ment of agriculture and manufactures, the amelioration 
of the condition of the industrial classes, and the 
extension of popular education. 

A national bank, that of St Charles, was established 
at Madrid for aiding the operations of commerce. 
In fine, " Spain," says M. Cesar Cantu, "which under 
Philip V. scarcely reckoned seven millions and a-half 
of inhabitants, had eleven at the close of the century; 
and the products of its industry and its agriculture 
had been tripled."* In his general financial and 
commercial regulations, Florida Blanca was assisted 
by the counsels of the Frenchman Cabarrus, and 
more especially by the political economist Campo- 
manes. In his reforms in the administration of the 
colonies, the minister received the valuable co-opera- 
tion of Don Jose Galvez, who had passed many years 
in America. 

Seven of the chief ports in Spain, and ultimately 
all its seaports, were allowed to trade with the 
American colonies, save and except Mexico. In 
consequence of these important concessions, the ex- 
portation of foreign goods was tripled, that of home 
produce quintupled, and the returns from America 

* Hist. Univ., trad. Franc, t, ix., p. 408. According to 
the last census, the population of Spain was rather more than 
15,000,000. — Vide Quarteidy Review^ Jan. 2, 1862, p. 162. 



Charles III. 57 

were augmented in the astonishing proportion of nine 
to one. The produce of the customs increased with 
equal rapidity. In 1786, these advantages were par- 
tially extended to Mexico. 

The colonies themselves felt the renovating influ- 
ence of this liberal policy. 

In the reign of our monarch, the navy which La 
Ensenada had created was considerably increased;* 
the militia was improved ; and the army fashioned on 
the Prussian model. 

A colony of foreign settlers, consisting for the most 
part of German and Swiss Protestants, was established 
in the Sierra Morena, under the direction of Count 
Pablo Olavide. 

This nobleman was a native of America, and had 
travelled in France, and had there, by his intercourse 
with the encyclopaedists, imbibed the irreligious doc- 
trines then so prevalent. He was denounced to 
the Inquisition, found guilty of having given utter- 
ance to irreligious sentiments, and condemned by the 
sacred Office to several years' confinement within a 
convent. He made, after some time, his escape into 
France, where he lived down to the Revolution of 



* By a comparative table of the naval forces of Spain in the 
years 1776 and 1788, Mr Townsend shews that in "the course 
of twelve years the Spanish navy had been nearly doubled, con- 
sidering merely the guns ; but when," he says, "we take into con- 
sideration the number of their leading ships in point of respect- 
ability, it will appear to be much more than doubled." — Vol. ii., 
P- 399- 



5 8 Spain. 

1789. Thrown into a dungeon during the Reign of 
Terror, he learned in the hour of misfortune to appre- 
ciate the blessings of Christianity, whose triumphs 
he has celebrated in a remarkable work, and which, 
even in our times, the Pere Desgeiiettes was in the 
habit of placing in the hands of French infidels who 
apphed to him for rehgious instruction. 

I now proceed to give a short account of the 
iniquitous suppression of the Society of Jesus in 
Spain ; and in so doing will use the words of a living 
Catholic historian of great celebrity. 

"On the eve of Palm Sunday, 1766," says he, "the 
people of Madrid rose in tumult, demanding pro- 
visions at a lower price, and the redress of various 
grievances. Neither the king, nor the ambassadors, 
nor the soldiers could allay the commotion, till the 
Jesuits, rushing into the midst of the multitude, 
appeased their rage, when the mutineers dispersed, 
crying out, ' Long live the Jesuits ! ' This was enough 
to enable the Duke de Choiseul to persuade King 
Charles III. that they were the instigators of the 
tumult, and to inspire him with sentiments of hatred 
and dread of the order. Charles III., a religious and 
clear-sighted prince, had given the Jesuits assurances 
of his protection ; but deceived by his minister. Count 
d'Aranda,'^ an adept of the French infidels, he thought 

* This minister, whom the infidel Buckle has lately so highly 
commended, meets with the following characteristic eulogy from 
another kindred spirit. "The Count d'Aranda," says the Mar- 



Charles III. 59 

his life imperilled by their machinations. A supposi- 
titious letter from the general of the order, Father 
Ricci, (fabricated, it is said, by the Duke de Choi- 
seul himself,) and in which the writer affirmed that he 
had in his hands documents proving that Charles III. 
was the offspring of an adulterous connexion j-^a 
supposititious letter was presented to the king. A 
secret inquiry was instituted into this matter; and 
then, with the greatest possible precautions, as if the 
safety of the whole realm were at stake, sealed orders 
were despatched to the alcaldes of all the cantons of 
Spain, with the intimation that, under pain of death, 
each should open these orders on the same day, and 
at the same hour. The purport of these orders was 
the expulsion of the Jesuits. In consequence of this 
mandate, six thousand of these rehgious, old, young, 
infirm, learned or noble, without any distinction what- 
soever, were in one instant arrested ; an inventory 
was taken of their goods ; and after each member was 
permitted to take for his use a breviary, a bag, and 
his apparel, they were thrown together into the hold 
of vessels, and transported to Civita Vecchia. 

quis de Langle, "is the only Spaniard of our day whose name 
posterity will inscribe on its tablets. It is he who wished to in- 
scribe on the frontispiece of all temples, and to unite in the 
same escutcheon the names of Luther, of Calvin, of Mohammed, 

of William Penn, and of Christ It is he who wished to 

sell the wardrobe of the saints, the furniture of the virgins, and 
to commute the crosses, the candelabra, and the patens into 
posts, inns, and high-roads." — Travels in Spain in 1785, t. i., 
p. 127. French edition. 



6o Spain. 

" The reigning Pontiff, deeming it most unjust that, 
without any given intimation, strangers to his states 
should thus be cast on his shores, dedined to receive 
the rehgious. Genoa and Leghorn did the same. 
At last, after six months, they were driven on the 
coast of Corsica, where they had to endure the pangs 
of famine, and every species of privation. At last the 
Pope, on condition that Spain should insure them a 
small pecuniary allowance, consented to receive them. 
In all the Spanish colonies in America, in Asia, and 
in Africa, the like treatment befell these religious. 

" Soon an edict appeared, announcing that the 
safety of the state, and other motives which the king 
kept in petto ^ ' shut up within his royal breast,' not to 
speak of a conspiracy formed to take away his life, 
and to dismember the monarchy, had determined him 
to expel the order of the Jesuits, and to confiscate 
their property. The king at the same time bestowed 
eulogies on the other religious orders, which did not 
meddle with temporal affairs; and without granting 
anything to the novices, allotted yearly to each Jesuit 
a hundred piastres, and to each lay-brother ninety. 
But strange enough, the monarch added, that if, by 
way of apology, any writing contrary to this royal 
edict should be published, then the whole Society 
would forfeit all rights to a pension. He subjoined, 
that * whereas it did not belong to individuals to judge 
or to interpret the decisions of the sovereign, it would 
be a crime of high treason to speak either for or 



Charles III. 6 1 

against the royal ordinance.' Having issued this 
manifesto, Charles III. then exclaimed, '■ I have con- 
quered a kingdom.' 

"The Pope keenly felt these arbitrary acts. He 
addressed to the King of Spain a brief couched in 
terms of the deepest affliction. 'And thou, too, riiy 
son,' he exclaimed; and he then unfolded to his 
Majesty the eminent services rendered by a Society 
so devoted to the interests of the state, as well as of 
the Church, and called God and men to witness that 
if any of its members had disturbed the government 
of Spain, the order was not only innocent in its insti- 
tute and in its spirit, but was, moreover, pious, useful, 
holy in its purpose, in its laws, in its maxims. He 
then adjured the monarch, as he prized the salvation 
of his own soul, to revoke or to suspend his decree, 
till such time as an impartial inquiry should cause 
truth and justice to prevail. But all the efforts of the 
Pontiff were unavailing. 

" The King of Naples, complying with the sugges- 
tions of Spain, and the counsels of his minister, 
Tanucci, passed also a decree of expulsion against 
the Jesuits." So far the ItaHan historian.* 

Let us now hear how a Protestant historian has 
characterised this atrocious persecution of a religious 
order: — "On considering this transaction with im- 
partiality," says Archdeacon Coxe, "it is impossible 
to deny that, however necessary the expulsion of the 
* L'Histoire Universelle, t. ix,, pp. 271, 272. Trad. Franc. 



62 Spain. 

Jesuits might be deemed, yet the execution itself was 
the most arbitrary and cruel measure ever held out to 
the indignation of mankind. The members of a great 
religious order were suddenly arrested, as if guilty of 
enormous crimes, banished from their native land 
without trial, exposed to the most dreadful hardships,^ 
and finally compelled to remain in the Papal do- 
minions, under the pain of losing the pittance allotted 
for their subsistence."* 

Another Protestant historian pays a far juster and 
nobler tribute to this illustrious, but much persecuted 
order. 

■ " If we divest ourselves of prejudice," says Mr 
Dunham, " in weighing the conduct and character of 
the Jesuits ; still more, if we contrast them with those 
of their persecutors, we cannot shut our eyes to the 
facts, that their lives were generally, not merely 
blameless, but useful ; that they were the victims of a 
systematic conspiracy, more selfish in its object and 
more atrocious in its execution than any which was 
ever held up to the execration of mankind. With a 
refinement of cruelty which we should not have ex- 
pected from the court of Carlos, they were forbidden 
even to complain, under the penalty of losing the 
annual pittance assigned them; nay, the Spaniard 
who presumed to speak or write in their defence was 
declared guilty of high treason. But these venerable 
men were resigned to their fate : so far from uttering 
* Coxe's Bourbons in Spain, vol. v., p. 361. 



Charles III. 63 

one word of complaint, they soothed their irritated 
flocks, whom they calmly exhorted to obey the civil 
powers. 'I cannot conclude the just encomium of 
these men,' says an eye-witness to their expulsion 
from the Philippine islands, 'without observing that 
in a situation where the extreme attachment of the 
natives to their pastors might with little encourage- 
ment have given occasion to all the evils of violence 
and insurrection, I saw them meet the edict for the 
abolition of their order with the deference due to 
civil authority, but, at the same time, with a strength 
and firmness of mind truly manly and heroic' " * 

Now, what is the moral we are to draw from 
this arbitrary and cruel edict against an illustrious 
order, whom the enemies of religion and of society 
justly regarded as a formidable obstacle to their de- 
signs % First, as this matter has been often elucidated, 
it is scarcely necessary to point out the active concert 
on this occasion between the ministers of different 
Catholic states. Secondly, in the same way, as the 
Lollard and Hussite heresies have frequently been 
termed the Reformatio ante Reformationem^ so the de- 
structive policy of Choiseul, D'Aranda, Pombal, and 
Tanucci in France, Spain, Portugal, and Naples may 
well be called the Revolutio ante Revolutionem.\ In- 

* Dunham's Hist, of Spain, vol. v., p. 179. See also 
Page's Voyages, quoted by Coxe, vol. iv., p. 361. 

f The suppression of the Society of Jesus w^as in these countries 
accompanied or followed by other violent encroachments on the 
spiritual and temporal rights of the Church. 



64 Spain. 

fatuated governments, stricken with a judicial blind- 
ness, helped in this act of policy, as in so many 
others, to dig a pit for their own destruction. 

Thirdly, the next consideration which this expul- 
sion of the Jesuits suggests, is that if Spain had had 
the happiness of retaining her ancient Cortes, such 
an act of t)n-anny, according to the just observation of 
a French writer,* would have been utterly impossible. 
A vast majority in the three estates of the Cortes 
would have condemned the project, or rescinded the 
royal edict. Of all persons. Catholics should be most 
attached to- a well-regulated parliamentary system^ for 
they have the most to lose by absolutism. But a 
well-regulated system cannot be a government where 
the king is a mere puppet — where the clergy, as an 
order, or even in their heads, are excluded from a 
share in legislation —where the aristocracy has little 
weight — where numerous classes of the commonalty 
are neither directly nor indirectly represented — where 
a section of the community, the slave of secret so- 
cieties, has exclusive sway. Such a system is a 
hideous caricature of parhamentary institutions. 

Lastly, while reUgious unity might have been up- 
held in Spain, as in Italy, without the aid of the In- 
quisition, the latter tribunal, cramped by a vexatious 
interference, frequently evinced towards the most 
orthodox writers of the last century, the vigour and 

* M. Clausel de Coussergues, in his pamphlet on Spain, 
Paris, 1S23. 



Charles III, 65 

activity of the Spanish mind. The legitimate Cortes, 
on the other hand, would have given a far more effec- 
tual protection to the spiritual and the temporal in- 
terests of the Church, and at the same time would have 
called forth all the intellectual powers of the nation, 
and infused energy into every department of the state. 

Charles III. died in the year 1788. He was a prince 
exemplary in all the relations of private life, an affec- 
tionate husband and father, remarkably pure in his 
conduct, and attentive to his religious duties. His 
talents were most respectable, and had been tolerably 
well cultivated. By his rule in Naples he had been 
early initiated in the conduct of public affairs, and thus 
he brought to the throne of Spain an active mind, 
matured by experience, a liberal temper, and a heart 
glowing with zeal for the welfare and happiness of his 
subjects. His love of justice was so strong, and so 
universally acknowledged, that foreign princes chose 
him for an arbiter in their disputes. What services 
he rendered to his country during the long period he 
ruled over it — how much he promoted the material 
prosperity, and advanced the intellectual cultivation 
of Spain — I have, I think, sufficiently shewn. 

This well-intentioned, and in many respects able 
monarch seems not to have possessed the gift of dis- 
cerning characters. Some men holding the most 
detestable principles in religion were admitted to his 
councils. His excessive love for the chase drew off" 
at times his attention from affairs of state, while a 



66 Spain. 

certain obstinacy of temper made him adhere to 
dangerous measures that guilty ministers had ad- 
vised. The expulsion of the Jesuits, and the cruel, 
arbitrary manner in which it was carried out, has 
fixed a stain on his memory. Very reprehensible, 
too, were the encroachments of his government on 
the spiritual rights of the Holy See, and of the 
Spanish Episcopate. Among other usurpations, I 
need only refer to the introduction of the Placet, or 
Exequatur of the Government on all Papal bulls. 

Not only the Church, but even the state, enjoyed 
less liberty than under most of the princes of the 
Austrian dynasty ; for under them the Cortes still sub- 
sisted in a mutilated form, and with rights abridged. 
And though the work of intellectual reform that had 
marked the reigns of Philip V. and of Ferdinand VI. 
was vigorously carried on under Charles III., yet the 
brilhant literature that had adorned the sixteenth 
century, and the first half of the following age, was 
wanting here. Nor could those reigns display the 
very remarkable intellectual movement that has 
characterised the last twenty years — the period that 
has succeeded to the civil wars. The eighteenth 
century was to Spain what the fifteenth had been to 
Italy. It was a period of educational reform — of the 
foundation of libraries and academies, of philological 
studies, and of historical investigation. And as in 
Italy, the age of preparatory studies paved the way 
for the exercise of creative genius ; the same will be 



Charles III, 67 

the case in Spain, and already has partly been so. 
Within the last thirty years a number of distinguished 
writers have there arisen j and three may be named, 
who in their respective departments have attained 
to the highest order of excellence. These are the 
great theologian, metaphysician, and publicist, Bal- 
mez; the very eminent parliamentary orator and 
moralist, Donoso Cortes; and Fernan Caballero, a 
delightful author of romances and novels. By the 
pure Catholic spirit which informs their writings, as 
well as by the creative power of genius, they have not 
only been at once an ornament and a blessing to 
their country, but have inaugujrated a new epoch. 

But I must not anticipate. 

Though an examination of the foreign policy of 
this prince does not enter into the plan of these 
lectures j yet I cannot forbear observing that his 
alliance with France in the Seven Years' War was 
not justifiable, for he had received no sufficient pro- 
vocation from Great Britain ; and next, that it was in 
a financial and commercial point of view, most ad- 
verse to the wellbeing of Spain. 

The alHance which this sovereign, in common with 
the infatuated court of Versailles, later formed with 
our revolted colonies of America, was not more un- 
just and perfidious, than it was insane and suicidal. 
To have dragged his country into this unnatural war, 
is the greatest stigma on the memory of Count 
Florida Blanca; a statesman who in other respects 



6S Spain. 

has so many claims to the respect and gratitude of 
his country. 

What to France and to Spain has been the fruit of 
their share in the War of American Independence, it 
is surely needless to remind you. 

Charles IV. 

The Prince of Asturias, under the name of Charles 
IV., succeeded to the throne in the year 1788. He 
was a very weak, incapable prince, but not devoid of 
good qualities of heart, nor of a taste for literature 
and the fine arts, which he liberally encouraged. 
He was extremely fond of athletic exercises, in which 
he excelled. His temper was violent and irascible ; 
and on one occasion, when Prince of Asturias, he, 
for some imaginary slight, pursued with a drawn 
sword his father's minister, the Marquis Squillace. 
On coming to the throne, he was ruled by his im- 
perious consort, Maria Louisa, and her guilty favou- 
rite, Don Manuel Godoi, Duke of Alcudia, and 
Prince of the Peace. 

How neglectful he was of the high duties of his 
station, and how utterly he gave up the reins of 
power into the hands of this worthless minister, the 
monarch himself confessed on a memorable occasion. 
During his stay at Bayonne in 1808, he thus de- 
scribed to the Emperor Napoleon I. his mode of life 
in Spain : — -' Winter, as well as summer, I went 
every day to the chase up to twelve o'clock ; I then 



Charles IV. 69 

dined, and afterwards resumed the sport of hunting 
until evening. God 01 then made to me a report on 
government affairs ; and then I retired to bed, to 
resume the same kind of hfe the next day, unless I 
were prevented by some important ceremonial." * 

Thus the love for the chase, which in his father 
had been excessive, was carried by this monarch to a 
degree of the most culpable folly. 

His queen, Maria Louisa, a daughter of the Duke 
of Parma, was a clever, intriguing, imperious, and 
profligate woman. She early evinced her domineering 
spirit. An anecdote is told of her, that when in her 
thirteenth year, she had been betrothed to the Prince 
of Asturias, and had happened to have one day some 
dispute with her brother, the heir-apparent to the 
Duchy of Parma, she petulantly said to him, " Re- 
member, you will be but a petty duke; but I am 
destined to be the Queen of Spain and the Indies." 

She married in the year 1765 Charles IV., then 
Prince of Asturias, and soon obtained an ascendant 
over the feeble mind of her husband. On that 

* Charles IV., though he abandoned to Godoi the reins of 
civil government, never consulted him on the nomination to 
bishoprics and high ecclesiastical dignities. On these matters 
he took the advice of his confessor and of prudent ecclesiastics. 
This prince, though too fond of the pleasures of the chase, was 
virtuous and conscientious; and the expression, "swinish in- 
dulgence," lately applied to him by the Edinburgh Review, is 
highly unjust. Vide Edinbtirgh Review, July 1861, p. 197. 

The fact stated in the first part of this note rests on the au- 
thority of a learned friend, who has passed many years in Spain. 



70 Spain. 

prince's accession to the throne in the year 1788, 
this influence became most disastrous ; for thereby 
the unworthy favourite I just now spoke of was 
raised to power. And here is the place to give the 
history of this too famous personage. 

Don Manuel Godoi was bom at Badajoz in the year 
1765, of a family noble but reduced. He came with 
his brother to Madrid, and soon was admitted as a 
private into the royal body-guard. His personal 
graces, his address, his powers of conversation, and 
especially his musical talents, soon rendered him a 
favourite in society. His brother also played well on 
the lute ; and, having been by a maid of honour intro- 
duced into the presence of the queen, and played 
before her majesty, she expressed her admiration for 
his musical skill. Hereupon he exclaimed, "Oh, 
could you hear my brother Manuel play ! " On the 
queen's expressing her desire to witness the musical 
performances of one she had already heard much 
spoken of in other quarters, Don Manuel Godoi was 
admitted into the presence of her Majesty. And here 
sprang up that guilty attachment, which brought dis- 
grace on the royal family, shocked the feelings of the 
Spanish nation, gave rise to venaUty and corruption 
in the administration, made Spain an ignoble hand- 
maid to republican and imperial France, and was the 
proximate cause of all the disasters and misfortunes 
she went through in the first forty years of this century. 
Truly has it been said, we must seek in the Mussul- 



Charles IV, 71 

man east for a parallel to the history of this adven- 
turer. From a private in the body-guard, he rose to 
the rank of captain, then was made colonel, afterwards 
created a privy councillor, then prime minister, later 
made Lord High Admiral and generaHssimo of the 
forces, was loaded with pensions and orders, and re- 
ceived the titles successively of Duke of Alcudia and 
of Prince of the Peace. And as if the fatuity of the 
king knew no bounds, he was married to his niece, 
the daughter of the queen of Etruria ; and in the pro- 
jected partition of Portugal concerted between the 
emperor Napoleon I. and himself in the secret treaty 
of Fontainebleau, this wretched adventurer had hoped 
to carve out an independent principality for himself 
But mark the moral of that tale. A career, apparently 
so brilhant and prosperous, begun in guilt, and per- 
petuated by guilt, suddenly terminated in the darkest 
reverses. One who, sprung from obscurity, had risen 
to such a pinnacle of greatness, who, loaded with 
wealth and honours, had for fifteen years disposed of 
the destinies of Spain and of the Indies, was of a 
sudden precipitated from his bad eminence, rescued 
by his greatest enemy from the hands of an infuriated 
populace, banished for ever from the land which he 
had betrayed, and after living to witness the long 
series of misfortunes he had helped to entail upon his 
country, died eight years ago at Paris in a state bor- 
dering on poverty I ! 

Before speaking of his foreign policy, it will be well 



72 Spain. 

to contemplate the domestic administration of Spain 
during the period of his sway. Dr Southey, who in 
his " History of the Peninsular War" judges with ex- 
cessive severity the government of Charles IV., admits 
that Godoi patronised the arts and sciences. And 
Sir Archibald Alison, after passing very just strictures 
on his general administration, acknowledges that 
many public improvements signalised it also. " The 
impulse given by the Bourbons," says he, " to the 
sciences and arts was continued and increased; greater 
benefits were conferred on public industry during the 
fifteen years of his government, than during the three 
preceding reigns. Schools were established for the 
encouragement of agriculture, the spread of medical 
information, and the diffusion of knowledge in the 
mechanical arts." * And it is impossible for any one 
to read the "Memoirs" which, after a silence of 
twenty-seven years, this minister published in 1836, 
and not to confess that, for the intellectual and mate- 
rial improvement of Spain, much was achieved by the 
obnoxious statesman. 

He encouraged translations of the best foreign 
scientific works, set on foot or patronised periodical 
pubhcations of science, appointed the most distin- 
guished professors to the mathematical and the physi- 
cal chairs, introduced the best models of machinery 
into the country, despatched at government expense 
able geographers, statists, engineers, and naturalists, 
* Hist, of Europe, vol. xi., p. 296. 



Charles IV. 73 

to explore and survey the provinces of Spain and her 
transatlantic colonies, and equipped vessels to carry 
vaccination to the Philippine islands and the South 
American colonies. Nor was his patronage of letters 
and philosophy less active and generous. Under his 
fostering care, new and cheaper editions of the old 
classical writers of Spain were brought out ; many of 
the Greek and Roman authors were edited with care, 
and illustrated by valuable comments ; a more assidu- 
ous cultivation of Greek literature was strongly re- 
commended to the universities; the translation and 
elucidation of the Arabic manuscripts of the Escurial, 
begun under Charles III., was continued; the philo- 
sophies of Bacon, Descartes, Malebranche, and Leib- 
nitz were introduced into the universities, too long 
habituated to the routine of the old scholasticism ; 
and though such a movement of ideas was the result 
of the scientific impulse given in the preceding reign, 
yet we must praise the government which seconded it. 
Distinguished poets, like Moratin, Mellendez, and Quin- 
tana, were pensioned and patronised by the court.* 

* The statements in the text are founded, indeed, on the autho- 
rity of Godoi ; but they are corroborated by M. De La Borde. 
Writing of the years just prior to the War of Independence, that 
able traveller says, " The government has multiplied the schools 
of rhetoric ; established lectures on Greek and the oriental lan- 
guages in the universities of Salamanca and' Valencia, in the 
college of St Isidore in Madrid, and in the seminary of nobles in 
the same city ; and founded lectures on foreign languages in the 
same college and seminary ; and poetical lectures in them and 
at the university of Valencia. In the school established at Ver- 



74 Spain. 

If from the encouragement given to letters and 
science we turn to the efforts made to promote the 
material prosperity of the country, we shall find that 
many of the reforms begun by Ferdinand VI. and 
Charles III. were steadily carried out. 

Let us hear the Prince of the Peace justify the 
measures of his own administration. " The constant 
expenses of the war," says he in his Memoirs, " did 
not permit me to attend, as much as I could have 
wished, to the subject of roads and canals ; neverthe- 
less, whatever remained to be done in the reign of 
Charles III. was eagerly followed up. The high road 
from Yrun to Madrid, and from Madrid to Cadiz, 
was completed, as well as the road from Madrid to 
Valencia. Immense sums were invested in the water- 
works of the Grao, where it was necessary to contend 
with the elements. In Catalonia, the rising city of 
San Carlos (the Alfaques) received considerable aug- 
mentations ; fortifications were added to it ; subse- 
quently the port of Tarragona was completely restored. 
The working of the American mines was the subject 
of my anxious solicitude ; this branch of industry was 
improved in these possessions, as well as in Spain. 
.... The lead mines of the Alpuj arras and of 
Granada proved highly prosperous \ they are now the 
wealth of the country." ^ 

gara by the Patriotic Society of Biscay, the same improvements 
in the studies were carried out." — La Borde, t. v., pp. i8i, 182. 

* Memoirs of the Prince of the Peace, vol. ii., pp. 269, 270. 
London, 1836. 



Charles IV. 75 

The minister then proceeds to speak of the various 
measures he introduced for continuing and developing 
the commercial and manufacturing policy adopted in 
the two preceding reigns ; and claims especial merit 
for the ordinance of 1794, which settled the respective 
rights of the farmers of Estremadura, and the privi- 
leges of pasturage possessed by the great sheep-owners. 
The latter were associated in a company called the 
Mesfa, whose migratory flocks of sheep descended in 
the winter into the plains of Estremadura, and in the 
summer returned to the mountains. The frequent 
passage of so many thousand flocks of sheep, and their 
pasturage, gave rise to perpetual law-suits between the 
farmers of the adjoining districts and the great sheep- 
owners, among whom were some of the most illustri- 
ous families. This litigation the ordinance of 1794, 
according to the Prince, happily terminated. 

Those economical societies I have already spoken 
of as set on foot during the late reign, for the pro- 
motion of husbandry and manufactures, continued to 
receive support from the government, as well as 
from all orders of society. Industrial, as well as ele- 
mentary schools, were multipHed ; and on the whole, 
at the close of the eighteenth century popular educa- 
tion was on a very satisfactory footing in Spain. The 
people at this day are remarkably well instructed in 
their Catechism. 

Such are the better parts of Godoi's administra- 
tion, and the portrait he has given is evidently over- 



76 Spain. 

coloured. He takes care not to shew us the other 
side of the picture. He, of course, tells us nothing 
of the scandals which disgraced the court, and in 
which he had so great a share. He speaks not of 
the profligate waste of the public money, when some 
years the annual expenses of the royal household 
amounted to two or three millions sterling; nor of 
the general venality and corruption which pervaded 
the different branches of the administration : nor of 
the system of favouritism which, by the appointment 
of incompetent men, led to the deterioration of the 
public services. Hence the state of disorganisation 
in which our officers found the Spanish troops in the 
first years of the Peninsular war. 

Let us now turn to the foreign policy of Spain 
when guided by the counsels of this minister. 

Charles IV. made repeated but vain efforts to 
rescue his cousin Louis XVI. from the scaffold. 
When that tragic event occurred, he declared war 
against the French republic. The Spanish armies 
in three different corps entered into the French 
territory, and gained some signal successes over 
the enemy. Here the Marquis de la Romana won 
his first laurels. The French at last drove back 
the Spaniards from their territory, and in turn in- 
vaded some districts of their country. Peace was 
concluded between the King of Spain and the 
French Republic by the treaty of Basle in 1795, 
whereby, among other provisions, the Spanish por- 



Charles IV. 11 

tion of Hispaniola was ceded to the French. This 
cession of the oldest transatlantic colony of the 
Spaniards deeply mortified the national pride, and 
increased the unpopularity of Godoif. This treaty 
was followed by the still more disastrous one of Ilde- 
fonso, in which an alliance, offensive and defensive, 
between France and Spain was entered into. These 
treaties called down the indignant reprobation of our 
great Burke, in his last immortal production, " Let- 
ters on a Regicide Peace." 

Not to speak of the dangerous consequences to 
the moral condition of Spain, which such a treaty of 
alliance, offensive and defensive, with the godless 
and regicide republic was calculated to lead to, the 
political advantages were all on the side of France. 
For hereby Spain was dragged into all the aggressive 
wars of that state, whether republican or imperial ; 
and from 1795 ^P "^^ 1808, her blood and her trea- 
sures were perforce expended to gratify French am- 
bition. Of what use were all the measures Godoi 
had introduced for the improvement of Spanish com- 
merce and manufactures, when by a perverse system 
of foreign policy he jeopardised the trade and the 
industry of his country. The commerce between 
Spain and her colonies was interrupted by British 
cruisers; and the fine navy which Charles III. had 
left her — the finest, says Dr Southey, she had pos- 
sessed since the Armada — was nearly annihilated at 
the battle of Trafalgar. The flower of her army. 



78 Spain. 

consisting of about 20,000 men, under one of her 
best generals, the Marquis Romana, was sent off to 
the north of Germany to fight the battles of Napoleon. 
Another Spanish army had been sent into Portugal to 
support Junot in an attack on a people that had 
given no offence whatsoever to Spain. So when the 
French in 1808 entered into that country, they found 
it absolutely denuded of troops. 

If now we turn our attention to the ecclesiastical 
affairs of Spain, we find that the Jansenistical party 
was favoured by Godoi.* This party ever since the 

* A few examples may be given of the influence exercised by 
the Jansenists and the Regalists under the administration of this 
statesman. The Regalists of Spain corresponded to the Ultra- 
Gallicans of France, and the Josephist Bureaucrats of Austria. 
These two parties, which had been growing up in the reign of 
Charles HI. , and had already given sufficient evidence of their 
power, were instrumental in obtaining a royal ordinance in 1 798 
to the following effect. This was for the sale of the property of 
all hospitals, houses of mercy and of retreat, foundling establish- 
ments, chantries, pious works, &c., the products of such sales 
being deposited in the mortmain fund, at an interest of three per 
cent. " Histoiy tells us, and experience teaches," says the 
learned Bishop of Barcelona, " that this measure dealt a deadly 
blow to institutions of this kind, since the conditions were not 
fulfilled, and the security was soon in default. " + 

Again, under the same administration the great Papal dog- 
matic bull, Auctore77i Jidei, which gave the death-blow to Jan- 
senism, though issued in 1 794, was not allowed to be pubhshed 
in Spain till the year 1800, and under circumstances I shall 
presently explain. It was thus the Protestant government of 
Prussia prevented, for two years, the publication of the Bull con- 

t Observaciones sobre el Presente y el Porvenir de la Iglesia en Espana, 
p. 79. Barcelona, 1857. 



Charles IV. 



n 



expulsion of the Jesuits, ha4 been gaining influence, 
and possessed some men of considerable talent. 
Among those thus favoured by the minister, was Dr 

demning the errors of Hermes, and which was issued in 1835. 
Both in Spain and in Prussia, this conduct was clearly contrary- 
even to the unjust law of the Placet; for thereby it was for the 
publication of disciplinary, and not dogmatic Bulls, the sanction 
of the civil power was required. 

A still more audacious encroachment on the rights of the 
Church was perpetrated by the Spanish government in the year 
1800. On the 5th day of September of that year, a royal de- 
cree appeared, in which, after the announcement of the death of 
the most holy father, Pope Pius VI., the king addresses the 
prelates as follows : — "I have resolved that, until I shall make 
known to you the nomination of a new Pope, the archbishops 
and the bishops shall exercise all the plenitude of their faculties., 
conformably to the ancient discipline of the Church, in respect to 
matrimonial dispensations and other things within their compe- 
tency.'''' This decree was more than a gross usurpation of ecclesi- 
astical rights by the civil power ; it was a formal declaration of 
schism ; and this even without the intervention of any prelate of 
the Church. Thus in that awful crisis of the Church, when, to 
use the words of the Bishop of Barcelona, all her sons should 
have gathered up their strength, and been of one heart and one 
soul to fight her battle against triumphant unbelief, a wretched 
ministry threw the brand of religious discord into Spain, and 
sought to shake her loyalty to that See which had so long con- 
firmed her, like every other Catholic land, in the true faith of 
Christ. This decree of the 5th of September 1800, which had 
filled all good Catholics with dismay, called forth the most ener- 
getic remonstrances from the Papal nuncio, and from the Span- 
ish prelates, and lastly from the new Pope himself. The king 
seeing the fearful error into which he had been led, threatened 
to inflict exemplary punishment on those who had so culpably 
abused his confidence. The Prince of the Peace here stepped in, 
and made some verbal apologies for what had occurred to the 
Papal nuncio, and sought for the time to make a hollow truce 
with the Church. As a sort of satisfaction to the sovereign 



8o Spain, 

Villanueva, who was a member of the revolutionary 
Cortes, who emigrated to London in 1823, was there 
suspended by the ecclesiastical authorities, came over 

Pontiff, the minister suffered the Bull Attctorem fidd to be now- 
published, after having been retained for six years in his office. 
In the royal edict authorising its publication, his majesty ex- 
pressed his great displeasure with those who, under the pretext 
of enlightenment, entertained the Pistoian doctrines condemned 
in the Bull referred to, and threatened them with the severest 
penalties should they persist in maintaining them. The regency 
that, in the name of Ferdinand VII. , governed Spain, issued in 
1 810, during the captivity of Pope Pius VII., an ordinance of a 
tenor similar to the one that, on the death of Pope Pius VI., 
Charles, as we have seen, had passed and then revoked. 

The Bishop of Barcelona, in the interesting work already 
cited, shews how, in the last years of Charles IV., the govern- 
ment officials and their organs carried on a secret war against 
religious orders. Suggestions were thrown out that the members 
of the mendicant orders should be employed in parochial duties, 
or sent out on foreign missions, or made to serve in prisons and 
penitential houses, and that their convents themselves should be 
transformed into jails and penitentiaries. In other monastic 
orders the members were to be reduced in number, and their 
establishments converted into institutes of education, of agricul- 
ture, the mechanical arts, &c. These schemes thinly disguised 
the project of spoliation. 

Reforms were doubtless needed in some of the rehgious 
orders ; but the only authorities competent to carry them out 
were the sovereign Pontiff and the bishops of Spain. And as 
these were the parties most interested in the well-being of the 
Church, we may be sure that all real abuses would (as far at 
least as human infirmity permits) be reformed with vigour, dis- 
cernment, and prudence. To shew how liberal at this very time 
was the Pope to the Spanish government, I may state that in 
the successive years 1800, 1801, and 1805, his Holiness relieved 
its wants by granting to it considerable subsidies out of the tithes 
and lands of the clergy of Spain. 

These various acts in the reign of Charles IV., coupled with 



Charles IV. 8i 

to this city, was by the charitable efforts of the late 
venerable Archbishop Murray reconciled to the 
Church, and here died penitent. 

During the War of Independence, the majority of 
the Jansenists joined the revolutionary party; the 
minority connected themselves with the Afrances- 
ados, or those who, like Llorente, espoused the cause 
of French usurpation. 

The Afrancesados had at bottom the same reli- 
gious principles with the revolutionary Liberals. 
The priests in both parties were Jansenists, the lay 
leaders deists. I say the leaders, for it would be 
most unphilosophic, as well as unjust, to suppose 

those already spoken of, as committed by the government of his 
predecessor, contain the germs of all the wrongs, oppressions, 
violence, tyranny exercised by the revolutionary Cortes in the 
first quarter of this century. They prepared the way for the 
later violation of episcopal rights ; the confiscation of church pro- 
perty; the suppression of religious orders; the exile, the im- 
prisonment, and the massacre of priests and bishops; the deso- 
lation of the sanctuary; the open menace of religious schism;* 
the noonday revel of impiety ! 

Those great social maladies, which we call revolutions, never 
come of a sudden, but are long preceded by various premonitory 
symptoms, and by partial derangements in the functions of the 
body politic. 

The facts stated in this note rest not only on the authority of 
the able Bishop of Barcelona, but on the testimony of a learned 
friend who has resided a great many years in Spain, 

* SeSor Alonso in 1842 proposed in Cortes the separation of the Churcih 
of Spain from the Holy See ; but even in that revolutionary assembly the 
motion found no support. Arguelles, the fanatical patriarch of the Revolu- 
tion, once said from the tribune, " I am a Catholic, but not a Roman 
Catholic." 

F 



82 Spain. 

that many, who from ignorance, inexperience, force 
of example, family influence, irritation at real abuses, 
had joined the revolutionary banner, were systematic 
infidels. 

The political principles of both these sections of 
the revolutionary party, between whom there reigned 
a deadly war, were very similar ; and this similarity 
was but natural, for both owned a common parent. 
In the patriotic section, however, the views were far 
more honourable and generous; but the minister 
Godoi, with his frivolous impiety, his shallow political 
views, his servility to France, was the genuine type of 
an Afrancesado. 

The literary men patronised by him during his 
administration, like the younger Moratin, Mellendez, 
Quintana, and others, were deistical in their opinions. 
Many of the officials of this period were infected with 
the same sentiments. The bad hterature of France 
on the one hand, and irritation at the severe pressure 
of the Inquisition on the other, tended to ahenate 
some minds from the Christian religion. This tri- 
bunal, by too rigid a censorship on the press, and too 
great a system of espionage, though mild and equit- 
able in its judicial proceedings, embittered, as I said 
on a former occasion, many spirits, and exercised a 
dangerous compression on the human intellect. 

The great bulk, however, of all orders of society 
still clung with pertinacity to their ancient faith; 
while the more enlightened among them evidently 



Charles IV. 83 

desired the reform of political abuses, and sighed for 
the restoration of their ancient Cortes.* 

Such was the state of Spain, when the revolution 
of Aranjuez broke out. 

By the Treaty of Fontainebleau, Portugal was to be 
divided between France and Spain; and a principality 
in the province of the Algarves was to be allotted to 
the Prince of the Peace. To carry this treaty into 
effect, a French army, under the command of Mar- 
shal Junot, was despatched into Portugal. Shortly 
afterwards a more powerful army, headed by Murat, 
amounting to ninety-five thousand men, advanced, 
under the pretext of supporting Junot's army, into the 
northern provinces of Spain. The northern fortresses, 
such as Figueras, Barcelona, Pampeluna, and St 
Sebastian, were, by surprise or fraud, taken possession 
of by the French. The wretched court of Charles 
IV. became alarmed at the extraordinary number of 
foreign troops that had, contrary to the express words 
of the treaty, marched into the country, as well as 
at the seizure of the fortresses. Their eyes at last 

* The venerable Canon Vinuessa, who in 1822 was mur- 
dered in prison, at Madrid, by the revolutionary band, called 
the Martilkros, or the men of the hammer, had published a 
tract, in which he said, ' ' Let us not have either the despotism 
of the Camarilla, or the anarchy of the revolutionary Cortes ; 
but let us have our own true, legitimate Cortes of the three 
estates." 

He here gave expression to those sentiments which, at the 
first outbreak of the War of Independence, the eminent publi- 
cist, Jovellanos, had defended. 



84 Spain. 

became opened to the perfidious designs of Napoleon. 
Governors of provinces addressed urgent letters to 
the prime minister, imploring him not to give up the 
fortresses to the French, and to protest against the 
introduction of a large foreign force into Spain. But 
the reckless, guilty minister was deaf to all remon- 
strances, and blind to the fate impending over his 
country. 

Dr Southey justly acquits Godoi of bribery; for 
what bribe did he need, who had the treasures of 
Spain and of America at his disposal? But bad men 
have coward consciences. The minister knew that 
when the Prince of the Asturias came to the throne, 
he would be dismissed from the royal councils, and 
most probably called on to give a strict account of 
his stewardship ; and so he was anxious to secure for 
himself an independent principality in Portugal. On 
the other hand, he was conscious of having carried on 
an unjust war against a neutral, unoffending ally, and 
of having plotted the iniquitous partition of his do- 
minions. So stricken with fear and anguish, he was 
spell-bound by the superior genius of Napoleon, and 
let his country sink helpless into his grasp. Per- 
plexed with anxiety and dread, Charles IV. resolves 
to betake himself with his family to America, and 
with this view makes preparations for a journey to 
Seville. The French ambassador at Madrid, Beau- 
harnais, endeavours to ^dissuade the monarch from 
such a step ; yet the hostile intentions of Napoleon 



i 



Charles IV. 85 

are too palpable not to strike even that infatuated 
king, and Godoi himself encourages his master to 
imitate the regent of Portugal, and to embark for the 
New World. 

On the 17th day of March 1807, the carriages drew 
up to convey the royal family to Seville. The Prince 
of the Asturias had previously declared that though 
the court was prepared to set out on that very day 
for that city, he would not accompany it on the jour- 
ney. These words got abroad, and as soon as the 
people saw the preparations for the royal journey, 
they rose up in tumult, cut the traces of the horses, 
and declared their resolution not to permit the depar- 
ture of their sovereign and his family. Another band 
of rioters surrounded the mansion of the Prince of 
the Peace, crying out, " Death to Godoi ! death to 
Godoi !" and, bursting open the portals, ransacked 
every apartment in search of the obnoxious minister, 
committing the furniture and many valuable ornaments 
to the flames. But nothing did they pilfer ; and, far 
from offering any molestation to the prince's wife and 
daughter, they conducted them in safety to the palace. 
Meanwhile Godoi had, by a back passage, escaped to 
some garret, where he hid himself under a heap of 
mats. There, for thirty-four hours, he remained in 
the utmost anguish, till intolerable thirst forced him 
to leave his hiding-place. On descending the stair- 
case, he is recognised by a sentinel, who cruelly gives 
the alarm; the multitude seize him with violence. 



86 Spain. 

beat him, and would have instantly put him to death, 
had he not implored them to allow him to have a 
confessor. His brother, Don Diego Godoi, brings 
lip his regiment to his rescue ; but the soldiers refuse 
to fire on the people. Some horse-guardsmen now 
snatch the minister from the infuriated populace, 
gallop off with him, and deposit him in the prison. 

The Prince of Asturias, at the entreaty of the king 
and queen, appears on the balcony of the palace to 
assuage the fury of the multitude, and to assure them 
that Godoi*, whom the king had the day before by a 
decree deprived of all his offices and dignities, was 
now in safe custody, and would in due time be 
brought to trial for his offences. 

Charles IV., to whom the crown had always been 
a heavy burden, trembling now not only for his king- 
dom, but for his own personal safety and that of his 
queen, freely, as he said, abdicated the throne in 
favour of his eldest son, the Prince of the Asturias. 
Accordingly this prince, under the title of Ferdinand 
VII., was, on the 19th of March 1808, proclaimed 
king of all Spain and the Indies. Such was that 
celebrated popular rising of Aranjuez — a rising which 
was happily unattended with bloodshed, and which 
most assuredly sprang out of the purest feelings of 
loyalty and patriotism. But this insurrection was 
like a tempestuous night, that broke up the long 
deep calm of the eighteenth century, and was the 
prelude to that series of terrific storms, which now, 



Ferdinand VI L 87 

with some brief intervals of repose, were for more than 
thirty years to desolate this devoted land. 

The new monarch enters Madrid, followed by an 
immense multitude of two hundred thousand persons 
of all ranks; and the joy which animates them is 
soon communicated to the inhabitants of the pro- 
vinces. The universal gladness of the nation at the 
downfall of the Prince of the Peace makes them 
inattentive to the movements of the French army, 
which, in considerable force, is now advancing on 
Madrid. Marshal Murat, who has by this time 
reached the capital, refuses to acknowledge the new 
king. Savary, sent by Napoleon, plies every art to 
engage Ferdinand VII. to meet the emperor on his 
entry into Spain. The former hesitates, and sends 
his younger brother, Don Carlos, in his stead. The 
infante not finding Napoleon on the frontiers, is in- 
duced to proceed to Bayonne ; but Ferdinand VII. 
not having, through the treachery of a Spaniard of 
rank, received an important letter, which Don Carlos 
had written to him from Bayonne, remained in utter 
ignorance of the dark machinations which the French 
emperor had formed against him and his country. In 
this state of ignorance the young king, contrary to 
the advice of Don Pedro Cevallos, and other honest 
counsellors, yields to the perfidious suggestions of 
Savary, and commences his journey to the northern 
frontier. When the royal carriage had arrived at 
Burgos, the people, with a sagacious instinct, sur- 



88 Spain, 

rounded it, and implored the king not to proceed. Not 
hearing any tidings of Napoleon's arrival, the fears 
and anxieties of Ferdinand redoubled ; but the crafty 
Savary knew how to dispel his apprehensions. But 
when the royal equipages reach Vittoria, the people 
indignantly stop the king's carriage, cut the traces, 
and insist on the monarch suspending his journey. 
At this moment the Spanish minister, Urquijo, arrives 
at Vittoria, reveals to the king all the turpitude of 
Na;poleon's designs on Spain and her royal family, 
implores him not to proceed, and suggests the means 
for insuring the safety of his flight to the southern 
provinces. Had Ferdinand, now following this 
advice, thrown himself upon his people, the war which 
ensued would have been more speedily terminated, 
and, at the same time, been attended with more 
beneficial results. His evil genius prevails. He 
prosecutes his journey amid the murmurs of the 
people, till, with a heart full of fear and misgivings, 
he sets his foot on the French territory. 

No sooner has he reached Bayonne than Savary 
announces to him, on the part of the French emperor, 
that he must abdicate the throne of Spain. The 
insolent demand Ferdinand scornfully rejects. 

Meanwhile, the emperor Napoleon invites over to 
France the ex-king Charles IV. and his queen, as well 
as their unworthy favourite, whom Murat had released 
from prison. The imbecile monarch, at the bidding 
of the French emperor, resigns into his hands, under 



Ferdinand VI L 89 

certain stipulations for the maintenance of himself 
and the other members of the royal family, on the 
part of himself and all future successors to the crown, 
all right and title to the kingdom of Spain and to her 
colonies. The Prince of the Peace was of course not 
forgotten in this convention ; and, having secured the 
restoration of his titles and estates, he appended his 
name to this infamous document, and so crowned his 
profligate administration with the betrayal of his king 
and country. 

Ferdinand is summoned into the presence of the 
emperor, of his father, and of the Prince of the Peace. 
Supported by his faithful followers, — the Canon Escoi- 
quiz, his former tutor, and Don Pedro Cevallos, — the 
young king pertinaciously refuses, except conditionally, 
and before the full Cortes of Spain, to resign his crown. 
The old ex-king, indignant at this refusal, threatens 
his son with personal castigation; and the French 
emperor throws out mysterious menaces of a trial for 
some events which have recently occurred, and for 
which he holds the young king responsible. At this 
moment the queen rushes into the apartment, and 
pours forth against her unfortunate son a torrent of 
passionate reproaches, so violent that Don Pedro 
Cevallos has declined to transcribe them in his 
Memoirs. 

Under moral compulsion and physical restraint, the 
unfortunate Ferdinand makes an unconditional sur- 
render of his crown to the French emperor. The 



90 Spain. 

chateau of Prince Talleyrand at Valencay is then 
assigned to him for his abode; and here he is doomed 
to pass a long captivity of six years. The chateau of 
Compiegne, with its fine woods abounding in game, is 
allotted to the ex-king and queen. They afterwards 
repair to Marseilles, and subsequently to Rome ; but, 
though they live to see the restoration of their son to 
his throne, and are at last reconciled with him, they 
never tread again the soil of Spain. 

Charles IV. died in 1819. This king, though 
deeply responsible for his gross neglect of pubUc 
duties, — duties which a love of ease had led him to 
abandon, — was yet a prince commendable for piety 
and many private virtues. 

Thus were the machinations of Napoleon laid bare 
before the world ; and seldom has history had to 
record acts of more flagitious perfidy. Not only as 
respects Ferdinand VI I. , the infantes, and the whole 
Spanish nation, were the laws of hospitality, which a 
Bedouin would have respected, been grossly violated ; 
but the ex-king and his minister were equally duped ; 
for never had the French emperor entertained the 
sHghtest intention of fulfilling in th^ir regard the 
stipulations made in the Treaty of Fontainebleau. 

But let us hurry back to Madrid, where, in the ab- 
sence of the king, some heart-stirring scenes have 
been enacted. 

The agitation of all ranks had been extreme since 
the departure of Ferdinand VII.; and tumults and 



Ferdinand VII. 91 

bloody collisions between the populace and the 
French troops had in many places occurred. Gn the 
2d of May 1808, the royal carriages draw up before 
the palace ; and the people are now convinced that, 
as reported, the last remaining members of the royal 
family — the queen of Etruria, the Infante Don Fran- 
cisco, and the representative of the king, the Infante 
Don Antonio — are about to be taken from them. 
Large groups gather around the palace. It is reported 
that the Infante Don Francisco, a lad of fourteen, is 
weeping bitterly at the thought of leaving his country ; 
and an aide-de-camp of Murat, who has been sent by 
him to know the cause of the tumult, is, on attempting 
to enter the palace, very roughly handled by the 
populace. The French marshal then sends this offi- 
cer with a picket of troops, and with two pieces of 
cannon. Blood flows on both sides. Instantly the 
whole city is in a flame. The people fly to arms, 
surround detachments of the French, and in some 
instances cut them to pieces. 

The Spanish troops, who, by order of the provisional 
government, have been shut up in their barracks, are 
now attacked ^by the French. The people fly for 
protection to their own soldiers; and the Spanish 
artillerymen, headed by two heroic young officers, 
Daoiz and Velarde, one thirty, the other twenty-five 
years old, plant a twenty-pounder before the arsenal, 
which the French are preparing to attack. As their 
ti'oops advance up a narrow street, they are swept 



92 ^ Spain, 

down by the Spanish cannon ; and twenty times 
they are repulsed. At last they make a tremendous 
rush, and by their superior numbers overcome the 
Spaniards, and slay at the cannon the two brave 
officers I have named. These are the first martyrs of 
national independence, and their blood becomes the 
seed of heroes. 

Though the strife is over, and both parties have 
consented to a mutual amnesty, the French general 
exercises fearful vengeance for the consequences of a 
tumult, which by his arrogance he had himself pro- 
voked. A court-martial is established, and for three 
days the military executions continue, whereby hun- 
dreds of individuals, of every rank and age, who had 
taken no part in the conflict, are brought to a summary 
trial, and shot without being allowed the last consola- 
tions of religion. A rush is made by the French at 
the noblemen's houses ; and touching anecdotes are 
told of the fidelity of the Spanish servants, who, rather 
than betray the hiding-places of their masters, let 
themselves be slain. General Foy, in his history of 
the Peninsular campaigns, has reprobated in the 
strongest terms the barbarity of his j:ountrymen on 
this occasion. There were, doubtless, many religious 
and humane men in the French army at this time ; 
but, taken as a whole, their officers and soldiers dis- 
played a spirit of rapacity, lust, cruelty, and sacrilege, 
that in no foe, since their Saracen invaders, had the 
Spaniards ever encountered. 



War of Independence. g 3 

The cry, ^' Let us die for the just cause ! let us die 
for the just cause !" resounds through the length and 
breadth of Spain. This subHme cry of a martyr- 
people mounts up to heaven, and in dying, that 
people wins the palm of victory. Indignant patriot- 
ism flashes from every eye; armed men spring up 
from every brake ; the plains bristle with spears ; the 
watch-fires blaze on every mountain-height ; the soil 
trembles beneath the tramp of encountering hosts ; 
the rustic leaves his plough for the fight ; the artisan 
his loom, the tradesman his counter, the student the 
university-hall, the monk his cloister, the nobleman 
his mansion j and sometimes even Beauty herself, 
(as in the case of the Countess Burita, and of Antonia 
Zaragoza,) casting aside her lyre, grasps the spear, 
puts on the breastplate and helmet of Minerva, and 
waxes terrible in her wrath. The wild guerillas and 
their chiefs dart down, like falcons, from the rocky 
fastnesses on the unsuspecting foe, break his lines, 
cut off his communications, strike him with dread, 
and then disperse ; again unite, — now recede, now 
advance — hover now upon his rear, now upon his 
van, — and pursue his squadrons with untiring wing. 
Castafios, a hero worthy of Spain's olden times, gains 
the glorious victory 6f Baylen over the French. 
Saragossa, in a siege the most memorable since that 
of the ancient Saguntum, opposes to disciplined skill 
the sublime energy of despair ; and though she at last 
falls, her death-song sounds like the paean of victory. 



94 Spain. 

The Irish bard has said, 

** Sublime was the warning which hberty spoke, 
And grand was the moment when Spaniards awoke." 

The latent energies of a great people, foolishly 
thought to be extinct, were aroused by a great occa- 
sion ; and the warning which liberty here spoke was 
sublime, for it was a wise, and a pure, and a holy 
freedom. It was the hberty of the altar — ^the liberty 
of the throne — the liberty of the domestic hearth — 
the liberty of all orders in the state — the liberty of 
the individual — the liberty of national independence. 
How after the drunken, bloody Saturnalia of the god- 
less, anarchic France of 1792, this glorious national 
outburst of rehgious patriotism, cheers and consoles 
the Christian ! 

Mr Pitt had declared that it was the high-minded 
people of Spain, which was destined to strike the first 
blow at the gigantic military tyranny, which then 
weighed on the nations of Europe ; and long after- 
wards the prophetic words of that great statesman 
were ratified by Napoleon himself. " That unfortu- 
nate war in Spain," said he, in his exile at St Helena, 
" was the cause of my destruction." 

The policy which Pitt did not live to realise, was 
carried out by his able and eloquent friend, Mr Can- 
ning, and his sagacious colleague, the Marquis of 
Wellesley. British forces were despatched to Spain, 
and considerable subsidies furnished to her patriots, 
who now, under the guidance of their juntas, had every- 



War of Independence. 95 

where risen up against the French domination. I need 
not tell you how the English, Scotch, and Irish troops, 
headed by an illustrious captain, whose genius for 
consummate prudence, forethought, and power of 
combination, bears much resemblance to that of the 
great Turenne, nobly sustained the efforts of a gener- 
ous people. I need not remind you of those glorious 
campaigns, unsurpassed, perhaps, in history, nor 
point out that long line of glory, which stretches 
from the plains of Albuera to the walls of Toulouse. 
I need not tell you how, after stupendous efforts, and 
a series of the most splendid victories, the alhed 
armies at length liberated the entire Peninsula, 
Here my task ends. I have completed the history 
of Spain in the eighteenth century. 



LECTURE II. 

RELIGIOUS AND POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS OF SPAIN IN 
THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. — CAUSES OF THE 

SPANISH REVOLUTION. PARALLEL BETWEEN THE 

REVOLUTIONS OF SPAIN AND OF FRANCE. 

T N this lecture I propose to speak of the rehgious 
and poHtical institutions of Spain, and of the 
various classes of her population. I shall then pro- 
ceed to consider the causes, moral and political, of 
her Revolution, and the points both of resemblance 
and of difference it presents to that of France. My 
remarks apply to the institutions and the classes as 
they existed in the last century and the earlier portion 
of the present; but the changes wrought by the 
Revolution will of course be noticed in the fitting 
place. I begin with the Episcopate. The Spanish 
bishops, according to the testimony of friend and foe, 
have ever been distinguished for their learning and 
piety. Even under the worst administrations, like 
that of Godoy, for example, the appointments to sees 
were excellent ; for here the king, Charles IV., al- 
lowed not the interference of the favourite, but fol- 



The Clergy, 97 

lowed the recommendations of his confessor, sub- 
ject to the control of the council of Castile. The 
following account of the Spanish prelates is given 
by the learned M. Picot, the French historian of the 
Church in the last century : " These bishops," says 
he, " are, in general, models for their flocks. They 
are selected from among the most virtuous and the 
most learned ecclesiastics. These qualities, irrespec- 
tive of any distinction from birth, usually lead to the 
episcopate."* 

The statement of the Catholic historian is corrob- 
orated by the testimony of a very fair and judicious 
Enghsh Protestant clergyman, the Rev. Mr Towns- 
end, who travelled through Spain in the years 1786 
and 1787. Speaking of the Spanish bishops, he says : 
*^ Indeed, these venerable men, from all I could hear, 
and from what I saw in the near approach to which 
they graciously admitted me, for purity, for piety, for 
zeal, can never be sufficiently admired.^' t Again he 
says : ^' The meeting of two prelates is a phenomenon 
in Spain ; because the moment a minister of the altar 
accepts a mitre, he devotes his life wholly to the 
duties of his office, confines himself altogether to his 
diocess, and is lost both to his friends and to his 
family." ^: 

* Picot, Mem. eccl6s. du iSeme Siecle, t. i., c. xx. In trod, 
t A Journey through Spain in the Years 1786-87, vol. ii., 
p. 150. London, 1789. 
X Ibid., vol. iii., p. 321. 

G 



98 Spain, 

The Edinburgh Review^ a journal so hostile to the 
Catholic Church, observed, shortly after the breaking 
out of the Spanish Revolution of 1820, "that the 
people of Spain had not quarrelled with their clergy, 
and deservedly, on account of the great learning and 
piety of their prelates, and the virtuous and laborious 
lives led by the parochial clergy." 

Let us now hear the testimony of the infidel, M. 
Bourgoing, who, as French ambassador, resided in 
Spain during the last decade of the eighteenth cen- 
tury. "And although," says he, "among this class 
[the prelates] there still exist some fanatics, they are, 
however, all eminent for their charity, and for the 
austerity of their manners. Their constant residence 
in their sees obliges them to spend all their revenues 
in the country whence they are derived. They all 
appropriate a large portion to charitable purposes. 
Some of them devote a part to the encouragement of 
industry ; and this is not the only way in which the 
wealth of the clergy is conducive to the welfare of the 
state. We shall see, under the head of taxes, that 
ample contributions are derived from the clergy."* 

Still more explicit and remarkable is the testimony 
borne, more than thirty years ago, by the London 
Quarterly Review to the piety and the patriotism of 
all ranks and orders of the Spanish priesthood. " But 
in Spain," says the reviewer, "even the regular clergy, 
although the system cannot be too strongly repro- 
* Tableau d'Espagne, t. i., pp. 360, 361. 



The Clergy, 99 

bated, were individually, in many instances,, eminent 
for piety and virtue, not less than for the patriotism 
and courage they displayed during the war." With 
respect to the secular clergy, M. de la Borde,* in 
his elaborate work upon Spain, tells us that they 
were, in proportion, less numerous than the clergy of 
France had been; that their riches were less con- 
siderable, but better administered j and that a much 
larger portion of their revenues went to the state. 
He adds, that an irreproachable life was the most 
certain road to preferment; that no rank, however 
high in the Church, exempted from residence ; that 
the incomes of the wealthy were expended in the 
support of various useful establishments, and in acts 
of individual benevolence ; and as to the bishops in 
particular, after alluding to their general liberality in 
regard to works of public utility in their respective 
dioceses, ever since the time of the recovery of the 
country from the Moors, he mentions several recent 
instances of most splendid munificence. These state- 
ments of M. de la Borde are in perfect accordance, 
too, with the account given ia the " History of the Pen- 

* I will cite in the original a part of this passage referred to 
by the reviewer: — *'Quelque partialit'6 que Ton ait apportde 
jusqu'k present dans I'examen de cette question, (la conduite du 
clerge espagnol,) on n'a jamais trouve que des eloges a donner 
au haut clerge espagnol, exempt en general de ces dereglemens 
que I'on reproche avec quelque raison au clerg^ des autres na- 
tions. La nomination aux places eminentes n'est point accordee 
a la naissance ou a la richesse," etc. — Itiniraire en Espagne^ 
tome vi., pp. 53, 54. 



lOO Spain, 

insular War/^ begun by General Foy, but which, un- 
happily, that distinguished French officer did not live 
to bring to a conclusion. General Foy says, (and I 
beg to observe that he belonged to the revolutionary 
party,) ^' The bishops were rich, but commendable 
for the use which they made of their riches. The 
people were accustomed to reverence them, and they 
deserved it, both by their virtues and their learning. 
The monarchy being dissolved, the bishops are the 
natural heads of the people.^' * 

Of the Bishop of Orense he says, ^^He was a prelate, 
the honour of the Spanish clergy by his learning, and 
exemplary by his virtues." Of the Bishop of San- 
tander he says, " He was a man, holy, severe to him- 
self, and reverenced by all." t 

Of the Archbishop of Valencia in 1787, Mr Towns- 
end gives the following pleasing portrait : — "When we 
arrived at the archbishop's homely habitation, he re- 
ceived us with politeness, and I was delighted to find 
in the good old man all that ease and affability, that 
mildness and gentleness of manner, which became his 
dignity and age. Far from being morose, he was 
cheerful and engaging in his conversation, uncom- 
monly sensible and well-informed. Being fond of 
study, he avoided the interruptions inevitable in such 
a city as Valeiicia ; and as a man of uncommon piety, 
he courted solitude, yet he was attentive to all the 

* Foy, vol. ii., p. 275. 

t Quarterly Review, vol. Ivi., pp. 134, 135. 



The Clergy, loi 

duties of his office, and occasionally entertained his 
friends. In a word, he appeared to me precisely what a 
bishop ought to heP * His accounts of other bishops 
he met with are equally gratifying. Cardinal Loren- 
zana, archbishop of Toledo, was eminent for his 
piety and charity, and reminds us in his munificence 
of some of the great prelates of the Middle Ages. He 
used for some time to entertain two thousand emi- 
grant French priests at his table in Toledo. In the 
conclave of cardinals which, at the commencement of 
this century, sat at Venice, and raised Pius VII. to 
the Papal dignity, it was this prelate who, at that 
period of persecution, supplied his confreres the car- 
dinals with their equipages, and, indeed, defrayed 
most of their expenses on this occasion. 

According to the census of 1788, there were then 
in Spain 60,240 members of the secular clergy, 49,270 
monks, and 22,237 friars and nuns, making a total of 
131,740 members of the religious body.t The total 
population of the country at that period amounted to 
ten millions one hundred and forty-three thousand 
and odd souls. 

There were five orders of monks, properly so called, 
such as Benedictines, Bernardines, Cistercians, Pre- 
monstratensians, and Carthusians, with two hundred 
and four houses of men, and one hundred and twelve 
houses of women. 

* Journey through Spain, t. iii., pp. 274, 275. 
f La Borde, t. iv., p. 25. 



I02 Spain. 

There were various mendicant orders, such as 
Dominicans, the many families of Franciscans, Car- 
mehtes, Augustinian hermits, and the rest. They had 
one thousand six hundred and eight houses of men, 
and eight hundred and eleven houses of women. 

There were sixteen orders of regulars, properly so 
called, with two hundred and seventy-eight houses of 
men, and thirty-three houses of women. Of these 
orders and congregations, the most eminent were the 
Jesuits, (who, after 1767, were not allowed to hold col- 
leges, but could act as secular priests,) the Oratorians 
of St Philip Neri, the Barnabites, the Lazarists, and 
the Piarists, founded by the Spaniard, St Calasanzio. 

The military orders, of which the chief were those 
of Calatrava, San lago di Compostella, Alcantara, 
and Malta, possessed fourteen houses of men, and 
twenty houses of women. The lay brethren were 
mostly exempted from the monastic vows ; but there 
were commanders, priors, and vicars exercising cleri- 
cal functions. They were all under the jurisdiction 
of a chapter, called " the Council of Orders,^' com- 
posed of ecclesiastical and lay representatives of each, 
and who had formerly received from the sovereign 
Pontiffs and the kings of Spain the most extensive 
powers — ecclesiastical, civil, and municipal. Not 
less than 1,200,000 Spaniards were, in one way or 
another, subject to this Council of Orders ; and from 
their total exemption from all episcopal control, they 
were nicknamed by the Spaniards the Greek Church, 



The Clergy. 1^3 

Now, in characterizing the different members of the 
Spanish Church, it is most satisfactory that I should 
be able to pass on the female convents the same 
unqualified praise which, on a former occasion, I 
could pronounce on those of France/^ Their spot- 
less reputation has been unsullied by the breath of 
scandal; and this is the more remarkable, as many 
of the nunneries in Spain were extremely rich, and 
their inmates were taken (not, as in ancient and in 
modern France, or in England and in Ireland of the 
present day, from the higher classes,) but more fre- 
quently from the middle and humbler ranks of life, to 
whom such wealth was a stronger inducement to quit 
the world. 

As to the several orders of recluses, the well-known 
English rationalist and utilitarian, Dr Bowring,t with 
all his antipathy to the Catholic Church, cannot 
refrain from expressing his wonder at the sanctity of 
the austerer orders. The apostate priest, the noto- 
rious Blanco White, has in his Memoirs paid a 
touching tribute to the zeal and charity of the Ora- 
torians of Seville, i The Jesuits, before and after 

* See Lectures on some subjects of Ancient and Modern His- 
tory : Lect. VII. 

f See his Journey to Spain in 1814. 

X In the Rev. Mr Townsend we must naturally look for the 
usual prejudices of a Protestant clergyman against monastic orders; 
yet he commends the Capuchins, and pays the following hand- 
some tribute to the Oratorians, not only of Malaga, but of all 
Spain: "Among these Franciscan monks," says he, "the Capu- 
chins appear to be the only useful members of society, giving 



I04 Spain. 

their suppression, were here, what they were in all 
other countries, a pure, zealous, active, and learned 
body of men. The Dominicans were then what 
they had ever been, by their virtues and learning, the 
pride and glory of Spain. The Carmelites were true 
to the spirit of their second foundress, the wonder of 
her sex, and the ornament of her country. The 
Benedictines here, as elsewhere, were remarkable for 
their theological and historical learning, as well as for 
their monastic virtues and the noble simplicity of 
their manners. Among the Franciscans were often 
to be found examples of great self-denial and austere 
virtue, and a successful pursuit of sacred literature ; 
but as this order was divided into various branches, 
and its members were far more numerous than those 
of any other, there were of course more frequent 
instances of scandal. Far greater laxity was to be 
met with among the ecclesiastical commanders and 
priors of the military orders I jtist spoke of These 
dignities were often bestowed on the younger sons of 
the nobility, without any regard to a true ecclesiastical 
vocation ; and while the functions were discharged by 

themselves up to the service of the poor ; yet even they might be 
dispensed with, and their places supplied with more advantage 
to the public by the Fathers of the Oratory, or Congregation of 
St Philip Neri, who, although not bound by vows, are more 
laborious and more extensively useful than all the regulars of 
the monastic tribes." — yourney through Spain, vol. iii., p. 13. 

The institute of the Capuchins has, in many respects, an end 
totally different from that of the Oratorians. The two cannot 
be compared. 



The Clergy, 105 

vicars, the ample revenues of the benefice were not un- 
frequently squandered away in frivolous amusements. 

Of the parochial clergy of Spain, I should like to 
speak at greater length ; but the Hmits prescribed to 
a lecture will not allow me to do more than cite the 
following testimony in their behalf from an EngUsh 
Protestant writer. 

Adverting to the persecution of the Spanish Church 
by the revolutionary party, a writer in the Quarterly 
Review of 1823, writes as follows: — ^^To the feelings 
of a bigoted people like the Spaniards," says he, 
'' the treatment experienced by the ecclesiastics in 
general, at the hands of the new government, was in 
the highest degree repugnant, and abstractedly it was 
tyrannical and unjust; for the country pastors of 
Spain, like those of France, have always been of the 
most respectable character."* To the Spanish clergy, 
secular and regular, considered in their twofold 
capacity, as pastors and as landlords, the following 

*■ Quarterly Review, January 1823, p. 554. The Protestant 
historian, Mr Dunham, who is so very severe on the friars of 
Spain, says, of her secular priests especially, "They are so far 
from being ignorant, that they v^^ould honourably sustain a com- 
parison with the clergy of the Established Church of England ; 
and so far from being slaves, that they have generally been 
among the foremost defenders of popular rights ; in fact, no 
Church has a nobler body." — Hist, of Spain^ vol. v., p. 286. 
Longman : London. 

To the high theological acquirements of the present clergy of 
Spain, Cardinal Wiseman renders full justice, in his essay on 
that country, in the Dublin Review of 1845. The period of 
their theological course usually extends to twelve years. 



io6 Spain. 

generous tribute has been paid by Sir A. Alison : — 
" The influence of this great body,'' says he, " was 
immense. Independently of their spiritual ascen- 
dancy in a country more strongly attached than any 
in Europe to the Romish Church, they possessed, as 
temporal proprietors, an unbounded sway over their 
flocks. As in all other countries, it had long been 
felt that the Church was the best and most indulgent 
landlord; the ecclesiastical estates, which were very 
numerous and extensive, were much better cultivated 
in general than any in the hands of lay proprietors, 
and the tenantry held their possessions under them 
for such moderate rents, and by so secure a tenure, 
that they had long enjoyed almost the advantages and 
consideration of actual landholders. Nor was this 
all ; the charity and beneficence of the monks had 
set on foot, in every part of the country, extensive 
institutions, through which, more than any others by 
which they could be affected, the distresses of the poor 
had been relieved. They partook, in a great degree, 
of the character of the hospice^ particularly in the 
northern provinces. To the peasant they often 
served as banking establishments, where none other 
existed in the province, and, as such, essentially 
contributed to agricultural improvement. The friars 
acted as schoolmasters, advocates, physicians, and 
apothecaries. Besides feeding and clothing the poor, 
and visiting the sick, they afforded spiritual consola- 
tion. They were considerate landlords and indulgent 



1 



The Nobility. 107 

masters ; peacemakers in domestic broils ; a prop of 
support in family misfortune ; they provided periodi- 
cal amusements and festivities for the peasants ; 
advanced them funds, if assailed with misfortune j 
furnished them with seed, if their harvest had failed. 
Most of the convents \\2,^fundaciones^ or endowments 
for professors, who taught rhetoric and philosophy, 
besides keeping schools open for the use of the poor ; 
they also supplied parochial ministers, when wanted, 
and their preachers were considered the best in 
Spain/^* 

The Spanish clergy, whether secular or regular, 
were at this period too numerous and too wealthy ; 
and, under these circumstances, it was not possible 
that abuses and scandals should not, from time to 
time, arise. Yet we have seen, from the avowal of 
even Protestant writers, how singularly pure and vir- 
tuous on the whole was this body of men. 

I pass to the Nobihty. 

The Spanish nobility was divided into two classes 
— that of the grandees^ consisting of about one hun- 
dred famihes; and that of the second class, the titolos, 
which was very numerous. 

Lord Byron has been exceedingly unjust to these 

classes, when in his " Childe Harold," speaking of 

Spain, he says — 

" Here all were noble, save nobility ; 
None hugg'd a conqueror's chain, save fallen chivalry." 

* Hist, of Europe, vol. vi., pp. 627, 628. 



io8 Spain, 

In the War of Independence many members of 
this class honourably distinguished themselves by 
their energy and patriotism, by their valour and their 
wisdom, whether in council or on the battle-field. 
And during the last century we see them, and some- 
times with the same distinction, conducting the armies 
and navies of their country, governing its distant 
colonies, exercising the functions of the magistracy, 
and in the cabinet guiding the destinies of Spain. 
The frank-hearted probity, and the stainless honour 
of the Portuguese fidalgos^ was 9, subject on which a 
late English Catholic prelate, the Right Rev. Dr 
Bramstone, who passed ten years of his life in Portu- 
gal, during the last century, loved to descant. And 
the same praise may be assigned, on the best authori- 
ty, to the Spanish hidalgos of the same period. "Her 
nobility and gentry,^' says the historian Dunham, "are 
not more distinguished for illustrious descent, than for 
unsuUied honour and boundless generosity."^' Mr 
Buckle says, " The bravery of the people has never 
been disputed ; and as to the upper classes, the punc- 
tilious honour of a Spanish gentleman has passed into 
a byeword, and circulated through the world.^'t 

After observing that the excessive number of do- 
mestics and dependents of all kinds is a heavy burden 
on the finances of the noble houses of Spain, M. 
Bourgoing says that, in despite of this onerous expen- 

* Hist, of Spain, vol. v., p. 286. 
f Hist, of Civil., vol. ii., p. 145. 



The Nobility, 109 

diture, ^^ there are much fewer great families ruined 
in Spain than in other countries. The simpUcity of 
their manners, their distaste for habitual ostentation, 
the paucity of sumptuous repasts, serve as a safe- 
guard to their fortunes. But when they wish to model 
themselves on the example of great personages in 
other courts, they yield to none in splendour. . . . 
Until our times, they evinced little inclination to 
shine in the different spheres of activity open to their 
ambition."* After excepting the period of the War 
of Succession, when, the grandees on both sides dis- 
played ^^ efforts, and even talents, w^hich proved that 
the last reigns of the Austrian dynasty had not quite 
benumbed their faculties," M. Bourgoing remarks, 
that for half a century they relapsed into their former 
state of inertness. " But under Charles III.," says 
he, " they aroused themselves, and sought to shew 
that subjects the most distinguished by birth were not 
always the most useless. They began to embrace 
with eagerness the profession of arms, which hitherto 
had possessed few attractions for them, and which in 
Spain is indeed much more irksome for men of the 
court than it was in France. At this moment, out of 
a hundred lieutenant-generals, there are about twenty 
who are grandees of Spain; and that general, the 
Count of Union, who after many defeats, yet fighting 
against us, perished at last gloriously on the field of 
battle, was of their class. In the career of diplomacy, 
* Tableau de I'Espagne moderne, t. L, p. 164. 



no Spain, 

they could, in the reign of Charles III., point to dis- 
tinguished men of their order — a Count d^Aranda, 
whom we still regret; a Count de Fernan Nunez, 
whom death carried off at the moment when the re- 
establishment of peace was about to bring him once 
more amongst us ; a Duke of Villahermosa," &c. * 

Again, speaking of the Spanish grandees in general, 
this writer observes, ^^ That however lofty their pre- 
tensions may be, they are far the most affable and 
engaging. They are far from that supercilious mien 
which people in Europe attribute to them. Many, 
on the contrary, instead of that repulsive dignity which 
the great lords of other courts assume, are most 
kindly in their deportment." t 

Of the old nobility of Spain of the sixteenth and 
seventeenth centuries, Mr Churton says, there were 
certainly among them men who entitled themselves to 
the praise of the son of Sirach, as " leaders of the 
people by their counsels \ " and many more who were 
" rich men furnished with abiUty, living peaceably in 
their habitations." Those who had been to Salamanca, 
were usually good Latin scholars, and sometimes 
picked up a little Greek. (" Don Quixote," part ii., 
c. 1 6.) To easy composition in verse, they some- 
times added the art of music. :{: 

It is true that from the reign of Philip II., the 

* Tableau de I'Espagne moderne, t. i., pp. 164, 165. 

t Ibid., p. 162. 

X Churton's Gongora, vol. i., p. III. 



The Nobility. 1 1 1 

nobles, by the false and fatal policy of the court, have 
been drawn away from their estates to spend their for- 
tunes in the capital, and sometimes to contract habits 
of dissipation. It is true that their ample domains 
have much suffered from their absence, that they have 
lost the taste for rural pursuits and rural pastimes, 
and, what is worse, that their hold on the affections 
of their tenantry has been weakened.* It is true, 

* ** Throughout the whole of Spain," says the old sagacious 
traveller Townsend, *' I cannot recollect to have seen a single 
country residence like those which everywhere abound in Eng- 
land : the great nobility surround the sovereign, and are attracted 
by the court ; the nobles of inferior rank or fortune are either 
assembled at Madrid, or establish themselves in the great cities 
of the distant provinces. This desertion of the country has 
arisen, not as in other kingdoms, from the oppression of the 
great barons, and from the franchises enjoyed by the cities, but 
from two other causes more extensive in their operation. The first 
of these was the distracted condition of the empire till the reign 
of Ferdinand and Isabella, divided into separate kingdoms of 
small extent, all engaged in never-ceasing wars against each 
other, which drew men of property into the cities ; the second 
was the jealousy of the court, which soon followed the expulsion 
of the Moors, a jealousy which for more than a century and a 
half was merely political^ lest the grandees^ supported by the people^ 
should e7ideavoitr to regain their consequence. To this fear, at 
the accession of the present family , succeeded one of a m^ore alarm- 
ing nature, from the attachment which many of the great families 
had discovered to the house of Austria. For this reason they were 
assembled round the throne, and kept constantly in sight. The 
condition of the French is certainly better, and some inhabited 
castles are to be found in every province. * But in this respect 



* This observation was made three years before the great Revolution of 
1789. 



112 Spain. 

too, that their exclusion as a body from the legislative 
councils of their country, the indolence and the igno- 
rance which such exclusion is too apt to engender, 
and last, not least, the perpetual intermarriages of the 
higher nobility or grandeza, — intermarriages brought 
about, not (as in some countries has sometimes been 
the case) from religious motives, but through a spirit 
of exclusive and fastidious arrogance, — all these causes 
have produced in this aristocracy physical debility 
and mental degeneracy.* The nobility, compared 
with the clergy on the one hand and the peasantry 
on the other, are certainly degenerate; but this 

no country can be compared to England."* — ** Some of the 
Spanish grandees," says M. Bourgoing, *'are established in 
provincial capitals. I know none who reside habitually on their 
estates."— 7^^/m2/ de V Espagne moderne^ i., p. 1 68. 

* The grandees are generally small in stature, of limited in- 
tellectual capacity, and are possessed of little political influence. 
** It must be striking to an Englishman," says Mr Townsend, 
*' to see all the most important offices occupied by men who 
have been taken from the lowest ranks, and not to find amongst 
them one man of fashion, not one grandee of Spain. These are 
all precisely where they ought to be : lords of the bedchamber, 
grooms of the stole, masters of the horse, all near the throne, 
partaking of its splendour; whilst the drudgery and responsi- 
bility of office is left to others who are better qualified to bear 
that burden. In England it is far otherwise : our men of fashion 
are from their infancy trained to higher pursuits. ... In Spain, on 
the contrary, in the higher ranks all is torpid. " — Journey through 
Spain, vol. ii., pp. 246, 247. 

* Journey through Spain, vol. i., pp. 231-233. How superior is the plain 
good sense of this old traveller to the cynical bigotry of Ford, or to the 
monstrous theories of the infidel Buckle 1 



The Merchants, 1 1 3 

degeneracy does not justify the sweeping denuncia- 
tions of the cynical bard of '-' Childe Harold." 

As to the merchants of Spain, they have ever been 
distinguished for the strictest probity in their dealings. 
"Spanish probity," says La Borde,* "is proverbial, 
and it conspicuously shines in commercial relations." 
And of the frugality which still characterises the 
mode of living of this class, as well as of their great 
charities, Cardinal Wiseman has, in an interesting 
essay on Spain, given some striking examples, t 

His testimony is corroborated' by that of Mr 
Townsend, as he saw Spain more than seventy years 
ago. The cardinal had alluded especially to the 
merchants of Seville. Of those of Malaga, during 
his visit in 1787, the Protestant traveller thus speaks : 
*' Besides these general benefactors," says he, " many 
of the merchants are exceedingly liberal in their do- 
nations to the poor ; and among them no one is more 
distinguished than Don Joseph Martinis, a gentleman 
equally celebrated for the extent of his information, 
the hospitality of his table, and the bountiful assist- 
ance which he never fails to give to objects of dis- 
tress. The poor are at all times welcome to his 
doors, where money is daily distributed \ and for them 
every day his caldron boils." % 

* La Borde's Spain, vol. iv., p. 423. Trans. London: 180Q. 
+ Dublin Review^ anno 1845. 
X Journey through Spain, vol. iii., p. 16. 

H 



114 Spain, 

Spanish Peasants. 

I come to the peasantry, and here let me cite the 
words of the same well-informed writer in the Quar- 
terly Review before quoted, and who evidently speaks 
as an eye-witness. ^^ If,'^ he says, ^^ we look into 
their well-stored granaries, their stables filled with 
oxen or mules of the finest description ; if we examine 
the comfortable materials of which their dress is com- 
posed, and witness the cheerful and light-hearted 
mode in which they pass their days in their country 
retreats, their cordial welcome of strangers, the per- 
fect honesty of their dealings, and their exemplary 
and almost incredible temperance, we shall then be 
compelled to acknowledge that a more virtuous, loyal, 
and contented people are nowhere to be found.''* 
The sagacious and diligent historian, Sir A. Alison, 
confirms this statement. ^' Notwithstanding all the 
internal defects of their government and institutions," 
says he, '' the shepherds and cultivators of the soil 
enjoyed a most remarkable degree of prosperity : 
their dress, their houses, their habits of life demon- 
strated the long-established comfort which had for 
ages prevailed among them ; vast tracts, particularly 
in the mountainous regions of the north, were the 
property of the cultivators ; a state of things of all 
others the most favourable to social happiness, when 
accompanied with a tolerable degree of mildness in 
* Quarterly Review , 1823, p. 545. 



1 



The Peasantry, 1 1 5 

the practical administration of government ; and even 
in those districts where they were merely tenants of 
the nobility, the cities, or the Church, their condition 
demonstrated that they were permitted to retain an 
ample share of the fruits of their toil." "^ This picture 
of the wellbeing and contentment of the Spanish 
peasantry is true in regard to the largest part of Spain ; 
but in provinces like La Mancha, Murcia, and parts 
of Andalusia, suffering from the neglect of an absen- 
tee proprietary, we must not look for the same mate- 
rial comforts in the rural population. Their virtues, 
indeed, and their piety are nearly everywhere the 
same. The following tribute to their worth, from the 
pen of Dr Southey, is also very remarkable j for 
though he knew and loved Spain and her people 



* Hist, of Europe, vol. vi., p. 626. This historian has well 
perceived how \k\.^fueros and local Cortes of the Biscayan pro- 
vinces, of Navarre, Aragon, and Catalonia have promoted the 
wellbeing of the peasantry. * * The general comfort of the Spanish 
peasantry," says he, *' especially in the northern and mountain- 
ous provinces, is easily explained by the number of them who 
were owners of the soil, coupled with the vigour and efficacy of 
the provincial immunities and privileges, which in Catalonia, 
Navarre, the Basque provinces, Asturias, Aragon, and Galicia, 
effectually restrained the power of the executive, and gave to the 
inhabitants of those districts the practical enjoyment of almost 
complete personal freedom. So extensive were their privileges, 
so little did government venture to disregard them, that in many 
cases they were rather to be considered as democratic common- 
wealths inserted into that extraordinary assemblage of separate 
states which formed the Spanish monarchy, than subjects of a 
despotic government." — Hist, of Europe^ vol. vi., p. 626. 



1 1 6 Spain. 

well/ he was noted for an anti-Catholic bigotry, rare 
among the learned Anglicans of modern times. 

" Travellers/' says he, in his '^ History of the Pen- 
insular War," " forming their hasty estimate from the 
inhabitants of seaports and great cities, have too 
generally agreed in reviling the Portuguese and Span- 
iards; but if they, whose acquaintance with these 
nations was merely superficial, have been disposed to 
depreciate and despise them, others who dwelt among 
them always became attached to the people, and bore 
willing and honourable testimony to the virtues of the 
national character. It was, indeed, remarkable how 
little this had partaken of the national decay. The 
meanest peasant knew that his country had once 
been prosperous and powerful, he was familiar with 
the names of its heroes, and he spoke of the days 
that were past with a feeling which was the best omen 
for those that were to come.'^^ So far Dr Southey. 
I myself caught occasional glimpses of these noble 
peasants during the year I once passed in the Pyre- 
nees for the recovery of my health. I well remember 
the manly bearing of the tall, stalwart Navarrese 
mountaineers, when they came to purchase mules in 
the fairs of the city of Pau. Their black sashes with 
knives hanging from them, their motley-coloured 
garters, their dark gaiters, are still as vividly im- 
pressed on my memory, as if I had seen them but 
yesterday, 

* Penins. War, vol. i., p. ii. 



The Peasantry. 117 

The charge of indolence is one frequently preferred 
against the Spanish people. Let us hear the Protes- 
tant traveller, the Rev. Mr Townsend, who visited 
Spain in the latter years of the last century. " No 
one," he says, "who has seen the Spaniards on the 
sea-coast can think them lazy.'^ And again he 
remarks, " We must not inoagine that the Spaniards 
are naturally indolent; they are remarkable for ac- 
tivity, capable of strenuous exertions, and patient of 
fatigue. If therefore unemployed, this must be 
attributed to other causes, of which respecting some 
occupations, national prejudice is one."^ 

These statements of the English traveller are amply 
confirmed by the testimony of a German professor, 
Dr Link, who visited Spain a few years afterwards. 
"It is indeed surprising,^' he says, "what fatigue the 
Spaniards and Portuguese can bear ; how temperately 
they live, and what heat and cold they can endure." t 

This may be the proper place to cite the strong 
encomiums which that experienced traveller, M. de 
la Borde bestows on the valour, endurance, and 
steady discipline of the Spanish soldier, when under 
the command of intelligent officers. 

"The Spanish soldier," says he, "is still one of the 

* Journey through Spain, vol. iii., p. 268. Speaking of Ca- 
talonia, Townsend says, * ' Industry climbs among these rocks, 
and every spot where the plough can go, or the vine can fix its 
roots, is made productive, and abounds with either corn, or 
wine, or oil." — P. 317. 

t Travels through Spain and Portugal in 1797. 



1 1 8 Spain. 

best in Europe, when placed under an experienced 
general, and brave and intelligent officers. He is 
possessed of a cool and steady valour ; he long resists 
fatigue, and easily inures himself to labour ; lives on 
a little, endures hunger without complaining, executes 
the orders of his superiors without hesitation, and 
never suffers a murmur to escape him." * 

I shall conclude this account of the different classes 
of Spain with the following tribute to the many high 
moral qualities of the nation generally, as recorded by 
a very bitter enemy of their creed, as well as of all re- 
ligion. This tribute the author substantiates by the 
numerous testimonies of enlightened travellers within 
the last one hundred and fifty years. 

"The bravery of the Spanish people," says Mr 
Buckle, "has never been disputed; while as to the 
upper classes the punctiHous honour of a Spanish 
gentleman has passed into a by-word, and circulated 
through the world. Of the nation generally, the best 
observers pronounce them to be high-minded, gene- 
rous, truthful, full of integrity, warm and zealous 
friends, affectionate in all the private relations of life, 
frank, charitable, and humane. Their sincerity in 
religious matters is unquestionable; they are, more- 
over, eminently temperate and frugal." t 

* La Borde's Travels in Spain. English Trans., vol. v., 
p. 276. London, 1809. 

f History of Civilization. By T. H. Buckle, Esq. Vol. ii., 
p. 1 45. The following are the valuable testimonies cited by 
Mr Buckle as to the high moral qualities of Spaniards : * * Las 



National Character. 1 1 9 

A finer national character it were utterly impossible 
to depict ; and even a wise heathen philosopher would 
have said that such a people must needs have a great 

Espagnols sont fort charitables, tant a cause du merite que 
I'on s'acquiert par les aum6nes, que par rinclination naturelle 
qu'ils ont a donner, et la peine effective qu'ils souffrent lors- 
qu'ils sont obliges, soit par leur pauvret^, soit par quelqu'autre 
raison, de refuser ce qu'on leur demande. lis ont encore la 
bonne qualite de ne point abandonner leurs amis pendant 

qu'ils sont malades De mani^re que des personnes 

qui ne voient point quatre fois en un an, se voient tous les 
jours deux ou trois fois, des qu'ils souffrent." — D' Aulnoy, Re- 
lation dtc Voyage d^ Espagne, vol. ii., p. 374. 1693. — '*The 
Spaniards are grave, temperate, and sober ; firm and warm in 
their friendships, though cautious and slow in contracting them." 
— A Tour through Spain^ p. 3. By Udal ap Rhys. London, 
1763. — **When they have once professed it, none are more 
faithful friends. They have great probity and integrity of prin- 
ciple." — Clarke's Letters concerning the Spanish Nation^ p. 
334. London, 1763. — *'To express all that I feel on the recol- 
lection of their goodness, would appear like adulation ; but I 
may venture at least to say, that simplicity, sincerity, generosity, 
a high sense of dignity, and strong principles of honour, are the 
most prominent and striking features of the Spanish character." 

— Townsend^s Journey through Spain, vol. iii., p. 353. — **The 
Spaniards, though naturally deep and artful politicians, have 
still something so nobly frank and honest in their disposition." 
— Letters from Spain by an English Officer^ vol. ii., p. 171. 
London, 1788, — *'The Spaniards have fewer bad qualities than 
any other people that I have had the opportunity to know." — 
Croker''s Travels through Spain, pp. 237, 238. London, 1799. 

— *' Certainly, if it be taken in the mass, no people are more 
humane than the Spaniards, or more compassionate and kind in 
their feelings to others. They probably excel other nations, 
rather than fall below them in this respect." — Cook^s Spain, vol. 
i., p. 189. London, 1834. — '*The Spaniards are kind-hearted 
in all the relations of life." — Hoskin's Spain, vol. ii., p. 58. 



1 20 Spain. 

fear of the Gods. But our materialist sage has dis- 
covered that the Church which did, and alone could 
have moulded such noble qualities of the will and of 
the heart, was "a cruel and persecuting Church," 
*' stained with every sort of crime ; ^' and he blames 
this' people for bestowing on it increased marks of 
their affection. Of the intellectual qualities and 
achievements of the Spaniards, this author, as we 
shall later see, forms an estimate scarcely less favour- 
able. 

The Inquisition. 

Having considered the principal classes in Spanish 
society, I now wish to speak of its institutions at 
the period under investigation. '^ The Inquisition," 
according to M. Picot, "is a tribunal exclusively 
dependent on the government, and acting only under 
its influence. Its offices are filled with secular priests. 
Far from being an object of terror to the innocent, 
the Inquisition is rather a refuge for the guilty, who 
elsewhere would not escape the rigour of the laws. 
Torture, which had long been out of use, was for- 

London, *i85i.— Finally, I will adduce the testimony of two 
professional politicians, both of whom were well acquainted with 
the Spaniards. In 1770, Mr Harris, afterwards Lord Malmes- 
bury, writes: "They are brave, honest, and generous." — 
Diaries and Correspondence of the Earl of Malmesbury, vol. i. , 
p. 48. London, 1844. — And Lord Holland, according to 
Moore, deemed '■'that the Spaniards altogether are among the 
best people of Europe." — Moore's Memoirs, edited by Lord 
John Russell, vol. iii., p. 253. London, 1853. 



The Inquisition. 121 

mally abolished in 181 6. Its prisons have nothing 
terrible about them; and the penalties to which it 
condemns, are imprisonment or the galleys. Its 
autos-da-fe have been for a long time but the execution 
of judgments, which are anything but sanguinary. 

"Impartial travellers," continues the same writer, 
" all who have any knowledge of the affairs of Spain, 
know that the Inquisition is no longer formidable but 
from its name. Its office is chiefly confined to the 
prohibition once a year of certain books, which any 
one, however, who provides himself with a ticket, 
stating that he has the intention of sending them to 
the Inquisition, can keep at home. With this for- 
mahty, books can for ever be retained."* 

Of this tribunal thus wrote M. Bourgoing, who was 
for many years the envoy of the French Republic at 
the court of Madrid, and was himself quite imbued 
with the irreligious spirit of his age. 

" But I should likewise confess," he says, " from a 
regard to truth, not in order to deprecate the anger 
of the tribunal, that the Inquisition, if we could 
possibly be prevailed upon to pardon its constitu- 
tional forms and the object of its institution, might 
even, in our days, be adduced as a pattern of equity. 
It takes all the precautions proper to ascertain the 
accuracy of the evidence it receives. Let it not be 

* M^m. eccles. du i8eme Si^cle. Par M. Picot. Introd. 
cxviii., t. i. Paris, 1815. 



T22 Spain. 

said, on the contrary, that the resentment of an enemy- 
lurking in ambush will suffice to provoke its ven- 
geance. It never condemns any person on the sole 
evidence of an accuser, or without investigating the 
proofs of the accusation. Offences must be aggra- 
vated by frequent commission; they must be what 
are styled by bigots grievous offences, in order to 
incur its censure ; and, after a residence of ten years, 
my observations teach me that, with some circum- 
spection in conversation in such particulars as re- 
gard religion, any one may elude the grasp of this 
tribunal, and live as perfectly at his ease in Spain as 
in any other country of Europe." * 

Thus spoke this French diplomatist at the close of 
the last century. 

And his countryman, M. de la Borde, who pub- 
lished his travels in Spain a few years later, thus 
describes the Inquisition. 

'^ Another tribunal estabhshed," says he, " for the 
purpose of watching over the purity of the Christian 
faith, is the Inquisition — the name of which alone 
excites in most minds the involuntary sense of pro- 
found dread. But this tribunal is no longer what it 
was formerly; its sentences are at present dictated 
by sentiments of mildness and peace ; the spirit of 
toleration influences its decrees ; and those crimes, 
which elsewhere would be punished with death, are 
seldom visited by the Inquisition with heavier 

* Bourgoing's State of Spain. Eng. Trans, vol. i., p. 372. 



The Inquisition. 123 

chastisement than imprisonment, whipping, or the 
galleys. This tribunal is at present rather an engine 
of police, than subservient to ecclesiastical purposes ; 
it is in the hands of government, by which its opera- 
tions are called forth, directed, and controlled, and 
by which they may afterwards be modified or an- 
nulled. No change has taken place in the form and 
manner of its proceedings, which are always covered 
with impenetrable secrecy; but the objects of its 
notice are at present rather political principles than 
religious opinions; moreover, it seldom acts except 
in cases of open and public scandal, and never till 
after private notice and advice have been had re- 
course to ineffectually. 

^^ It is now more than a century since the people 
of Spain have beheld an auto-da-fe^ the last having 
taken place in the year 1680, under the reign of 
Charles 11.""^ 

On this last passage from the writer just cited, I 
wish to make a few comments. M. de la Borde here 
uses the word auto-da-fe in the vulgar sense of a 
capital execution. But every sentence pronounced 
by the Inquisition, whether it were a slight penance — 
the recital of certain prayers — the walking in a pro- 
cession with a lighted taper in one's hand — confine- 
ment to prison for a certain number of years — or the 
extreme punishment of death executed by the secular 

* Travels in Spain, vol. v., pp. 20, 21. Eng. Trans. Lon- 
don, 1809. 



124 Spain, 

power, to which the Inquisition handed over the cul- 
prit, — all these several sentences w^ere termed autos- 
da-fe!^ That after the date assigned by M. de la 
Borde, — ^namely, 1680, — no capital punishments were 
inflicted in Spain for heresy or apostasy, is, with one 
soHtary exception, true ; for it appears that in the 
reign of Philip V. some relapsed Jews and Moors 
were burned. 

Sacrilege must not be confounded with religious 
misbelief; and the former crime, in its aggravated 
shape, was in almost all Catholic countries visited 
with the penalty of death. 

Sorcery, witchcraft, bigamy, and other still more 
heinous transgressions, were sometimes punished in the 
like manner; but these punishments were not severer 
than those inflicted by the tribunals of other countries. 

I shall now state some facts illustrative of the his- 
tory of the Spanish Inquisition in the eighteenth 
century. 

In the reign of Philip V. the French attendants of 
that prince introduced into Spain the order of Free- 
masons. One of them, M. Tournon, was convicted 
of perverting the workmen of his button manufactory 
at Madrid. He was arraigned before the Inquisition, 
and condemned to a year's confinement, and to read 
works of piety in his prison, and then was expelled 

* On this subject see an elaborate disquisition in Hefele's 
** Life of Ximenes." Trans, by Rev. Mr Dalton. London, 
1861. 



The Inquisition, 125 

the kingdom. The French lodges received him as a 
martyr. 

In this reign there were some beatas or devotees 
punished for feigning false miracles; the two most 
famous ones were in Valencia and Cuenga. A still 
more famous case was that of the nuns of Carella, in 
Navarre, who were prosecuted and punished with 
severe imprisonment as being guilty of Molinos's 
heresy of quietism. They had been seduced into 
this dangerous heresy by a wicked lay-brother, called 
John Longas. , 

The case of Don Pablo Olavide, already noticed, 
is a very remarkable one. He was a native of Lima, 
in Peru ; was brought forward by the minister. Count 
Aranda ; accompanied his patron in his travels in 
France, and there, like him, became tainted with those 
irreligious principles, which were the moral epidemic 
of the day. His knowledge in political economy 
pointed him out as a fit person to direct the labours 
of the Swiss and German colonists, whom Charles III. 
had invited into Spain, in order to cultivate the sterile 
tracts of the Sierra Morena. And accordingly, on 
his return to Spain, he was, through the powerful 
influence of Aranda and other friends, appointed the 
head of the colony of La Carolina, consisting of the 
foreign husbandmen and artisans above mentioned. 
There he evinced his hostility to the regulars, op- 
posing their spiritual ministrations within the pre- 
cincts of his colony, while he, at the same time, gave 



126 Spain. 

free expression to his irreligious opinions. He was 
denounced to the Inquisition in 1776, was arrested, 
and stood a trial, which lasted two years. 

Besides other civil penalties which he incurred, he 
was condemned to eight years' confinement, and to 
the perusal of Lewis of Granada's "Symbol of the 
Faith,'' and of Segneri's work, entitled " The Infidel 
without Excuse." With the connivance of the court, 
Olavide, after two years' imprisonment, escaped into 
France, where he was warmly welcomed by the Ency- 
clopaedic party. He lived to taste the bitter fruits of 
irreligion ; for in the Reign of Terror, mainly brought 
about by the doctrines of his former friends, Voltaire 
and Rousseau, he was thrown into the dungeons of 
the Convention, and there, on the very threshold of 
death, he was, like La Harpe, touched by the influ- 
ences of Divine grace, and brought back to the faith 
of his fathers. The sincerity of his conversion was 
evinced in a noble work, entitled " The Triumph of 
the Gospel," which has been the instrument of re- 
claiming many an infidel to religion. 

In 1798, through the intervention of Cardinal Lo- 
renzana, Olavide was allowed to return to Spain, 
where he composed the book just mentioned, and 
which, to clearness and solidity of argument, is said 
to unite the charms of a pleasing style. 

The Holy Ofiice arraigned Charles IIL's ministers, 
Campomanes, Roda, Aranda, and even the good 
Florida Blanca on the charges of Jansenism and 



The Council of Castile, 127 

Philosophism. Two or three bishops, also, who had 
sat on the extraordinary council of 1767, which had 
expelled the Jesuits, and sanctioned the encroach- 
ments of the Duke of Parma on the territorial rights 
of the Holy See, were cited at the bar of the same 
tribunal. But a royal decree commanded the Inqui- 
sition to respect the king's ministers, and to confine 
its cognizance solely to the crimes of apostasy and 
contumacious heresy. By the same decree, the crimes 
of bigamy, witchcraft, sorcery, and other very heinous 
offences, were reserved exclusively to the competence 
of the secular tribunals. 

Again, in 1784, the Holy Office was inhibited by 
Charles III. from molesting all men of title, ministers 
of the crown, officers of the army and navy, and 
judges of the civil and criminal courts, until the king 
himself had revised the process. 

Thus the Spanish Inquisition, which, from its very 
origin under Ferdinand and Isabella, had been (as I 
formerly shewed) far more a political than an ecclesi- 
astical institute, became, in the last period of its exist- 
ence, almost entirely dependent on the civil power. 

The Council of Castile. 

From a tribunal, partly ecclesiastical, partly politi- 
cal, like the Inquisition, let us pass to the purely 
secular judicatures of the country. The first that 
meets our view is the Council of Castile, the supreme 
tribunal in Spain, and one whose magistrates, as 



128 Spain. 

Count de Maistre well observes, were ever distin- 
guished for their learning and integrity. 

At the period under review, the whole political 
authority centred in the king and his ministers ; the 
national affairs were conducted by the different coun- 
cils appointed by the crown, and which were fixed in 
the capital. Some of these possessed both legislative 
and judicial power, and exercised the twofold func- 
tion of advising and remonstrating with the crown, as 
well as of administering justice. In this distribution 
of power, the Council of Castile was paramount ; its 
decrees being decisive in the courts, though its judg- 
ments were under the control of the king. The reso- 
lutions were transmitted to the monarch by a certain 
number of members, bearing the title of the Chamber 
of Castile^ whose influence was very great. 

To give an instance of the check which this coun- 
cil sometimes put upon arbitrary power, — a point in 
which it bore some resemblance to the French par- 
liaments, — I may mention a case which occurred in 
the reign of Charles IV., and during the administra- 
tion of Godoy. The minister, Urquijo, was anxious 
to promote the views of the Jansenistical party, by 
procuring a Spanish translation of the works of the 
Portuguese Jansenist, the notorious Pereira. But in 
this design he was frustrated by the fiscal, or attor- 
ney-general of the Council of Castile, who moved an 
interdiction of the work. 

This fact proves the power which this supreme 



Council of Castile. 129 

Council could at times exercise. In the absence of 
the Cortes, these grave magistrates opposed to the 
capricious mandates of the servants of the crown the 
authority of law.* In his history of the Congress 
of Verona, Chateaubriand notices the salutary influ- 
ence of this and of other Councils in Spain ; and how, 
in order to become members of the Councils of Cas- 
tile and of the Indies, the highest nobles were ever 
ready to give up the viceroyalties of Milan, Naples, 
Sicily, and of Mexico and Peru. 

The Council of the Indies was modelled on the 
first, and was invested with the same powers, and 

* There is a passage in Bourgoing's work which bears out, to 
some extent, the observations in the text. **The old form of 
government," says he, **set many limits to the regal power. 
That old' constitution has been by degrees changed, and with- 
out any convulsion. The intermediate corporations have now 
scarcely a nominal existence. The Supreme Councils — that of 
Castile, for example, the chief of all — sometimes attempt to pre- 
sent remonstrances when they apprehend measures either dis- 
astrous in themselves, or contrary to the laws ; but we must 
remember that all their members are nominated by the king, 
and may be dismissed by him. From him only they expect 
their advancement in the career of the magistracy ; and as the 
record, which those Councils insert in the registers of the royal 
decrees, which bear on the jurisdiction of their several depart- 
ments, is a mere formality, which they have no legal means of 
refusing, they have not even, like the ancient Parliaments of 
France, a vis inertice to oppose to the will of the sovereign. 
Very recently, however, the Council of Castile was consulted on 
a question of very great importance. It has given its opinion, 
they say, with courage ; and it appears this judgment was not 
unattended with success." — Tableau deVEspagne moderne, vol. 

i-, pp. 175, 176. 

I 



130 Spain. 

exercised the like functions for the American and 
Asiatic colonies, as the Castilian Council did in the 
affairs of the mother-country, and of her Italian and 
Flemish provinces. This Council of the Indies was 
established by ^Ferdinand the Catholic, in the year 
15 1 1, and received its definitive constitution from the 
Emperor Charles V. 

The 'formula used by the Council of Castile, when 
it remonstrated against a royal edict, had an irony 
quite characteristic of the Spaniards. It was as fol- 
lows : " We obey; but do not carry out^ 

As to the Cortes of Spain, I shewed on a former 
occasion,* that when in the latter part of the reign of 
Charles V. they had been s,uppressed, the House of 
Procuradores, or the Commons, was still convoked 
by the crown, and, after voting the supplies, it freely 
indulged in the right of petition and remonstrance 
against all abuses of government. This practice con- 
tinued under Philip IL, and the later princes of the 
Austrian dynasty. Philip V. gave the last blow to 
the old free institutions of Spain, by putting down 
the Cortes of Aragon, Catalonia, and Valencia. The 
only surviving monument of those institutions was to 
be found in Navarre and the three Biscayan provinces. 
But on the accession of every new monarch to the 
throne, the Cortes of the three estates were duly 
assembled, in order to take the oath of fealty to the 

* See *' Lectures on some Subjects of Ancient and Modern 
History." Lecture the Fifth. Dolman, 1858. 



Ancient Cortes. 131 

sovereign. They were now, indeed, the mere unsub- 
stantial shadow of their former greatness ; but still 
the forms of Spain's ancient constitution were thus 
preserved, and kept alive in the memory of her 
people. And here was the great advantage she pos- 
sessed over France, where, except in some provinces, 
the last vestige of the states-constitution had disap- 
peared, and where, in the long interval from 16 14 to 
1789, the states-general had never once been con- 
voked. 

Under the Bourbons, there was a feeble image of 
the third estate of the Cortes in a body, which resided 
constantly at Madrid, under the name of Dipiitados 
de los Reynos, or deputies of the kingdoms. When 
this third estate was about to separate in 17 13, it was 
enacted that it should be represented by a perma- 
nent committee, whose function it was to superin- 
tend the administration of that part of the revenue, 
known by the name of the Millones. 

The municipal system of Spain was excellent. 
Every city, town, and village had its ayuntamiento or 
corporation. From a consideration of the institutions 
of that country, I proceed to inquire into the causes, 
moral and political, of the Revolution, that in our 
time has there wrought such fearful ravages. 

Under the cover of that noble struggle of religious 
patriotism, the spirit of licentiousness, which I de- 
scribed in my last lecture, had been at work. In the 
very midst of a conflict, in which a nation was con- 



132 Spain. 

tending for its very existence, and for all that renders 
that existence valuable, a wretched band of revolu- 
tionary sophists assembled within the walls of Cadiz, 
not to restore the ancient laws and liberties of their 
country, but to undermine its religion, and overthrow 
its political institutions. But how did these elements 
of disorder penetrate into Spain? What form did 
they there assume? What was the resistance they 
were destined to encounter % What were their pros- 
pects of success % 

A careful consideration of the period I reviewed in 
the last lecture will enable us to answer these ques- 
tions. I remember the words which fell some years 
ago from the lips of the illustrious German Catholic, 
Professor Gorres, one of the greatest publicists that 
ever lived, in a conversation I had with him one 
summer evening in his garden at Munich. I spoke 
of the civil conflict then raging in Spain between the 
Carlists and the Christinos ; and he rephed, '^ The 
evils of the Revolution have come from the court ; 
and the bad stuif must be burnt out before things can 
be righted." 

What a significant comment these words contain 
on the history of Spain in the last century ! Was it 
not some of the ministers, and courtiers, and am- 
bassadors of Charles III. that introduced the irre- 
ligious doctrines of the French Encyclopaedists into 
Spain? Was it not they who, themselves members 
of foreign ^secret societies, fostered those societies in 



The Revolution, 133 

their own country'? Was it not they who leagued 
with the Jansenist and the infidel statesmen of other 
countries in the war against the Church % Was it not 
they who were ever encroaching on the rights of the 
Papacy and the Episcopate, who suppressed religious 
orders, and, among others, the great Society of Jesus, 
— a suppression which left such a void in the sacred 
ministry and in public education in Europe, and 
struck at the missions in South America a blow which 
is felt to this day % Was it not the ministers of Spain, 
Portugal, Naples, Parma, and other Italian states 
that, in utter defiance of the religious spirit of the 
great bulk of the inhabitants, sought with more or 
less boldness to fetter the spiritual action of the priest- 
hood, to despoil it of its property, to lessen its con- 
sideration, and, wherever they dared, to encourage 
the circulation of bad books % Did not the legisla- 
tion of Naples, under Tanucci, divest marriage of its 
august, sacramental character, and degrade it into a 
mere civil contract? Was not a war made on en- 
tails, and on the proprietary and the political rights 
of nobility % Was not municipal freedom everywhere 
assailed, and administrative centraUsation systemati- 
cally introduced % In Spain, indeed, where there has 
ever reigned such a diversity of provincial customs, 
these changes could not be so successfully carried 
out as in Portugal under Pombal's administration, or 
as in Parma, Tuscany, and Naples. 

But even in Spain what attempts were made in the 



1 34 Spain. 

reign of Charles IV. to defraud the Basque provinces 
and Navarre of their ancient Cortes, as, at the com- 
mencement of the last century, Philip V. had deprived 
Aragon and Valencia of theirs % 

Thus in that country, as in France, it was the 
despotic, irreligious policy of absolute governments, 
that prepared the way for the more daring assaults of 
revolutionary assemblies ; and the latter only brought 
to maturity the germs of evil laid in an anterior legis- 
lation. 

Thus have I answered the first question, how did 
the revolutionary malady penetrate into Spain % The 
next questions, what form did it there assume, and 
what course did it take ? shall now be considered. 

The Spanish Revolution of 1812, renewed in 1820 
by a military revolt, had not, like that of France, been 
preceded by a century of irreligion, and a hundred 
and fifty years of Jansenism, which partly corrupted 
the Galilean Church, partly oppressed it. The Revo- 
lution encountered much fewer abuses in the Church 
of Spain ; — it found a court which, with the solitary 
exception of Queen Maria Louisa, had for ages been 
free from scandals ; nor could the wasteful adminis- 
tration of Godoi be compared to the financial dis- 
orders in the times of the regency, and of the latter 
part of the reign of Louis XV. Above all, the Span- 
ish Revolution found a nation in its great majority 
devoted to its religious and pohtical institutions ; and 
at the very moment when it burst out, that nation 



The Revolution, 135 

was performing prodigies of valour in defence of those 
very institutions. Hence the timidity of this Revolu- 
tion in its course; — hence the secrecy of its operations, 
when compared with the Revolution of 1789. Hence, 
while it wars against the Papacy and the Episcopate, 
suppresses religious orders, and confiscates Church 
property, it enacts that the holy Roman Catholic 
and apostolic religion is the religion of the state, and 
no other is to be tolerated in Spain. Hence, while, 
like the Constituent Assembly of France, it degrades 
the royal prerogative to a mere suspensive veto; while 
it excludes the two first orders — the Church and the 
aristocracy — from all direct share in the representa- 
tion; it decorates its anarchic conventions with the 
venerable historic title of the Cortes. Yet, except in 
the name, those Assemblies had nothing in common 
with the ancient Parliaments of Spain. 

The old French monarchy fell suddenly to the 
ground, for its foundations had long been undermined. 
The Spanish stood on a much firmer basis ; hence it 
had to endure an obstinate siege ; hence the history 
of its Revolution presents us with the spectacle of a 
system of mining and counter-mining, in which its 
defenders and its enemies were engaged. The Revo- 
lution of 1789 sprang, indeed, out of secret socie- 
ties ; but these, on its triumph, were soon transformed 
into open, furious clubs, which disdained the veil of 
secrecy. The Spanish Revolution, even after its 
triumph in 1820, yet in the presence of a people emi- 



136 Spain, 

nently catholic and monarchical, found it necessary 
to shroud its plans in secret societies. The army, 
which, by a revolt, first established this Revolution, 
remained its principal agent, and has ever played the 
chief part in the modern commotions of the Penin- 
sula. On the other hand, the main instruments of 
the French Revolution (though that event was origi- 
nally brought about by the corrupt portion of the 
aristocracy and of the literati,) were, after its triumph, 
the lowxr members of the trading and the professional 
classes. In France, where for a century the bureau- 
cratic centralisation had attained to such a formidable 
development, the Revolution made the capital the 
centre and the seat of its operations. In Spain, on 
the . other hand, which had retained much greater 
municipal freedom, the capital never exercised the 
same influence as Paris; and therefore it was here 
the periphery^ and not the centre^ of the circle which 
the Revolution usually selected for the basis of its 
movements. . 

In both Revolutions, the French and the Spanish — 
Jansenism and Irreligion — play a most important part. 
This remarkable concurrence of the two has led some 
to suppose that an express compact had been entered 
into between them for effecting the overthrow of the 
Christian religion. Such a supposition is absurd j for 
no sect was ever hypocritical on system ; and, with all 
its errors, there are too many Catholic elements in 
Jansenism to countenance such a hypothesis. But 



The Revolution. 137 

this wild supposition is one of those myths, which 
embody a great truth, and are devised to explain a 
great historical phenomenon. The Jansenist and the 
Deist go a part of their way together. The former 
wishes to remodel the Papacy and the Episcopate, 
and to bring about a radical change in the discipline 
of the Church ; the latter, in the vain hope that such 
radical changes may lead to the total subversion of 
the Catholic Church, and the destruction of the Chris- 
tian religion, seconds the efforts of the Jansenist with 
the utmost zeal. 

In the incipient stages of these Revolutions, it is 
not easy to discriminate between the acts and the 
tendencies of these two parties in regard to religious 
matters ; and more especially as in politics, there is 
often much agreement between them ; and next, be- 
cause in the Catholic South, Deism was compelled, 
even in revolutionary times, to observe great circum- 
spection. 

Jansenism, though it possessed in Spain some men 
of considerable learning and talent, was far from 
acquiring the same religious and political influence 
that it attained to in France, and even in Portugal. 
As to Spanish Deism, it never produced a single 
original writer, and subsisted only on wretched trans- 
cripts from the French infidel literature. I well re- 
member when I was in Paris, under the Restoration, 
that Spanish translations from the writings of Vol- 
taire, Rousseau, Volney, Raynal, and other infidels. 



138 Spain. 

were frequently transported in immense bales by the 
revolutionary Propaganda to the Peninsula and the 
South American States. 

Now comes the last question, how could this 
Revolution have been averted, and if it triumphed, 
was its triumph likely to be of the same sweeping 
and desolating character as the Revolution of 1789] 

I have endeavoured to furnish you with the data 
for answering this question. 

Many of the causes which produced tHe Revolution 
of 1789, existed in Spain in a mitigated form, and 
therefore the effects must needs be of the same miti- 
gated character. The party which brought about 
this Revolution was, indeed, numerically speaking, a 
feeble minority, but a minority energetic and turbu- 
lent, having its roots in those classes which, as I 
observed on a former occasion, represent the active, 
progressive forces in human society ; — a minority hold- 
ing the most subversive opinions in politics, and often 
the most impious doctrines in religion, and seeking 
by violence the redress of real and admitted griev- 
ances. Political revolutions, (and I speak not of 
defensive but of destructive revolutions,) poHtical re- 
volutions are like heresies in religion; they are the 
rash, insane attempts to reform real abuses ; — the 
false, perverted anticipations of some principle, true 
in itself, instinctively felt, but not yet defined. Hence 
the power of seduction which, in different ways, both 
exercise on the human mind. 



The Restoration. 139 

But how was this Revolution to have been averted % 
Its more immediate causes we saw at work in the 
course of the eighteenth century, but the remoter are 
to be traced to a far more distant period. Spain, in- 
deed, happily escaped the religious convulsions of the 
sixteenth century, preserving her faith amid the gene- 
ral shipwreck; and so, with the grace of God, she 
kept the one thing necessary. But, as was shewn on 
a former occasion, she underwent, in the reigns of 
Charles V. and of Philip II., important political 
changes, whereby, to the detriment of the aristocratic 
and the popular elements in her constitution, the 
monarchical was unduly developed. This irregular, 
unhealthy expansion of one political organ, joined to 
other causes, helped to bring on an extreme languor 
and inertness in the body politic. For in history the 
divine Nemesis never sleeps. Errors committed and 
wrongs perpetrated long ages ago she corrects and 
chastises at the appointed time, and after her own 
mysterious fashion. So true is what the German poet 
says — 

" Welt-geschichte ist welt-gericht." 
*' The history of the world is the judgment on the world." 

But how, I repeat, was the Spanish Revolution to 
have been averted % 

When, after his long captivity at Valengay, the 
prison-doors of Ferdinand VII. were unbarred, and 
he who, at the popular rising of Aranjuez, had been 



140 Spain, 

proclaimed the national deliverer, was restored to his 
country and his throne, what glorious prospects 
opened upon Spain ! The national mind had been 
stirred to its inmost depths, and in the terrible ordeal 
through which it had passed, this people had renewed 
its strength like the eagle. There was, however, a party, 
small in numbers but energetic of purpose, that was 
labouring to turn that new-born strength to mischief. 

On his arrival in Spain in 18 14, seventy members 
of the Cortes called on the King to abolish the revolu- 
tionary constitution of 181 2, which had inflicted such 
mischief on Church and State ; and Ferdinand VII. 
in so doing, declared that the sovereigns of Spain never 
wished to be despots, and promised to convoke the 
legitimate Cortes of the three estates. The period 
for a true national regeneration was now arrived. 
The social antitheses, if I may so speak, were now to 
be reconciled, and all the various powers and ele- 
ments in the political body to be brought into har- 
monious equipoise. The faith of the people was not 
to be tampered with, and the Church was to be pro- 
tected from outrage ; but the rigid surveillance of the 
Inquisition, which experience had shewn to have been 
not conducive to the interests of religion, was to be 
removed. Church property was to be maintained 
intact and inviolate ; and, though the clergy largely 
contributed to the burthens of the State, yet the 
rigour of mortmain might, with advantage to society 
at large, have been relaxed. If ecclesiastical property 



The Restoration, 141 

was thus, in a certain sense, to be mobilized, theo- 
logical science, too, ought to be mobiHzed ; that is to 
say, theology ought to emerge from the school, where 
in Spain she had been too long confined, and deck- 
ing herself with the graces of literature, and arming 
herself with the weapons of modern science, step forth 
into the arena of letters, and so exercise a more 
immediate and more potent action on the secular 
mind. 

The Grandees were to be roused from their apathy 
and inaction ; they were no longer to be mere puppets 
to gild the pageant of a court, but were to stand up 
in the national councils as the defenders of the royal 
prerogative, as well as of popular rights. Primogeni- 
ture — that fundamental law of, the agricultural family 
— was to be maintained ; but at the same time entails 
were no longer to be upheld in their feudal strict- 
ness.* The stirring energy of the middle classes was 
to find an adequate scope ; but that energy was to be 
directed, moderated, and confined within its legiti- 
mate channel. 

* "Not merely in Andalusia, but in the other provinces,'' 
says Mr Townsend, *'the great estates being strictly entailed, 
and administered on the proprietor's account, little land is to be 
rented by the farmer, less can be purchased by the moneyed man, 
and for want of floating property industry is left to languish. In 
Catalonia it is totally the reverse of this. . . That which con- 
tributes most to the wealth and prosperity of Catalonia, is the 
power which gentlemen of landed property have over their 
estates to grant a particular species of lease, called Establishment 
by Emfiteutic Contracts. — Journey^ vol. iii. pp. 328, 329. 



142 Spain. 

The peasantry — ^but no, that incomparable pea- 
santry needed no reform ! 

Lastly, Royalty itself was to preserve its veto un- 
fettered, and its domains intact, but was to levy no 
tax, and pass no law without the concurrence of the 
three estates in Cortes. 

So all the great social interests would have been 
satisfied j — the claims of religion a^nd of science, of the 
crown and of the clergy," of the aristocracy and of the 
commons, of agriculture and of industry, of commerce 
and of the colonies, would have been happily ad- 
justed. Alas, how cruelly were all such expectations 
deceived ! 

But Ferdinand VII., though neither in character 
nor in talents so contemptible as the vulgar Liberalism 
represents him, was yet faithless and fickle, indolent 
and violent, without elevated views or generous senti- 
ments, and so was unequal to the glorious task which 
Divine Providence had assigned him. In his long 
captivity at Valengay, the chateau of Prince Talley- 
rand, that most profligate of all politicians must have 
sought to imbue the mind of the young monarch with 
his own Machiavellian maxims of policy. And it is 
well known that he strove to enervate his character, 
and to corrupt his virtue, by throwing dangerous 
temptations in his way.* 

* Before his departure for France, his private conduct had 
been exemplary. This I state on the authority of one who re- 
sided for a great many years in Spain. 



The Restoration, 143 

After he had been re-established on his throne, 
and, amid the acclamations of the immense majority 
of the nation, had put down the revolutionary Cortes, 
what policy did the youthful sovereign pursue % 

An alternation of violence and of weakness — an ex- 
cessive severity towards the Liberales, many of them 
more deluded than guilty, and whose services during 
the War of Independence ought to have pleaded for 
indulgence — a perpetual change of ministers, till the 
secrets of government became widely known — no 
settled system of policy, — ^such was Ferdinand's 
government of six years, from 1814 to 1820, when 
the mihtary revolt in the Isle of Leon abruptly ter- 
minated it.^ This revolt of the troops, destined to 

* After writing this passage, it was extremely gratifying to me 
to find the same sentiments corroborated by the illustrious Bal- 
mez, one who so well understood the moral, social, and political 
condition of his country. 

After combating the doctrines and the proceedings of the 
Revolutionis-ts of 1 812, this eminent publicist says : — ** In putting 
forth these opinions, we beg leave to observe that we by no 
means intend to approve the faults committed by the Govern- 
ment of that period, (18 14,) nor the sterile persecution which it 
indulged in. We are convinced that, at that time, a most 
favourable opportunity was lost of founding a national govern- 
ment, of closing the volcano of revolutions, and of finally taking 
every pretext from intrigue, as well as from insurrection, and of 
preventing the fatal oscillations which we have gone through, 
which we still go through, and whereof God only knows the 
end. But in acknowledging the blindness of one party, we pre- 
tend not to conceal that of the other : we must ever observe, 
that the provocation came from the revolutionary doctrines^ from 
the mad attempts to implant among us principles whose conse- 



144 Spain. 

subdue the rebels in South America, while it dis- 
tracted and disorganized the mother-country, con- 
summated the triumph of the Revolution in the 
transatlantic colonies. The constitution of 1812, a 
wretched transcript of the French Constitution of 
1790, was extorted from the reluctant monarch by a 
mutinous soldiery. The army and the clubs dispute 
for ascendancy; the single legislative chamber is 
often their obsequious slave ; the sacred rights of the 
Church are violated ; religious orders are suppressed \ 
tithes abolished ; Church lands confiscated \ impious 
publications freely circulated ; royalty is treated with 

quences had been repelled and conquered on the field of battle." — 
Melanges riligieux, pkilosophiques, politiques, et litter aires, Tra- 
duitde Phpagnol, par J. Bareille, t iii., pp. 48, 49. Again, the il- 
lustrious writer admirably observes ; — *' The cause of our misfor- 
tunes is, that in the favourable opportunities that have offered we 
have never had a man that understood the Spanish nation, nor 
the age in which we live ; it is that the monarch, brought up in 
the court of Charles IV., and soon after led away captive into a 
foreign land, never comprehended his position, never knew the 
force of which he disposed, and placed himself at the head of 
parties, instead of placing himself at the head of the nation. 
The cause of our evils is, that that same monarch, without a 
fixed system of government, the sad sport of a weakness and 
a vacillation that have become hereditary among us, followed 
unresistingly the course of events, satisfied with overturning the 
Revolution, and never thinking of preventing its further enter- 
prises." — MSlanges, &c., t. iii., p. 51. These "Melanges" are 
translated from articles written by Balmez in two journals, La 
Civilizacion and El Fe7tsamiento de la Nacion^ edited at Barce- 
lona and at Madrid, between the years 1841 and 1848^ the year 
of his death. Alas ! that career was too brief for Spain and for 
the Church ! 



French Intervention. 145 

every species of contumely; the devoted friends of the 
altar and the throne are outraged and oppressed; 
while frightful political assassinations, as in the case 
of the venerable Canon Vinuessa, or more appalling 
judicial murders, hke that of the brave and devoted 
Elio, shock and afflict the Spanish people. "The 
year 1792,^^ said an eminent French writer, "re- 
appears with its crimes and its laws, which are but 
other sorts of crimes." 

The Revolution was happily arrested in its destruc- 
tive career by the arm of France. A hundred thou- 
sand Frenchmen, commanded by the Duke d^Angou- 
leme, cross the Spanish frontier to succour the Royahst 
bands, to rescue the people from the revolutionary 
yoke, and deliver the king from his captivity in Cadiz. 
The people, for three years trampled under foot by a 
tyrannical minority, which had the military force and 
all the financial resources of the country at its dis- 
posal, now went forth in vast multitudes to greet its 
generous deliverers. The clergy, the nobles, and the 
burgesses of the different cities sent forth their depu- 
tations to express thanks to the French commander ; 
the peasants raised rustic arches on his way ; and the 
towns hailed his arrival with illuminations. How 
widely different was this reception of the French from 
the one I described on a late occasion ! 

Thanks to the French expedition, as well as to the 
energetic rising of large portions of the Spanish na- 
tion, a second restoration of the monarchy now took 

K 



146 Spain. 

place. But the exasperation of minds in 1823 ren- 
dered the work of poUtical regeneration far more 
arduous than in 1814. The monarch in some re- 
spects, indeed, had learned wisdom from misfortune. 
He pursued a steady, consistent policy, retained able 
ministers in his councils, kept the Revolution at bay, 
and (as the Duke of Welhngton acknowledged) ad- 
vanced to a high degree the material prosperity of 
his dommions. But his policy, though firm, wanted 
largeness and generosity. His excessive rigour 
towards the Liberales, popular as it was with the 
bulk of the people, yet perpetuated animosity and 
dissension. His refusal to acknowledge the debt 
contracted by the revolutionary Cortes of 1820, im- 
paired the public credit of Spain. His non-acqui- 
escence in the sage advice given him by Chateau- 
briand, the French Minister of Foreign Affairs, to 
restore the ancient Cortes at home, and to send out 
to South America some of the Spanish Infantes for 
the independent government of the colonies, (which 
could not possibly be resubjugated by force,) led, on 
one hand, to the total, irrevocable separation of 
those colonies ; and, on the other hand, prevented the 
final establishment of order and liberty in the mother- 
country. 

In rejecting the counsel tendered by the French 
minister in regard to America, Ferdinand was but too 
well seconded by the national feelings and prejudices 
of his subjects. Spain could not bring herself to give 



Ferdinand VII. 147 

up, wfthout a renewed struggle, the vast and opulent 
regions which she had discovered, conquered, and 
civilized ; on which she had planted the standard of 
the cross, and the banners of her kings ; and which 
for so many ages she had regarded as among the 
brightest jewels of her crown. But at the period I 
have now arrived at, the reconquest of these colonies 
was all but impossible. How, in the exhausted state 
of its finances, with so many elements of danger and 
distraction at home, after the defeats its armies had 
sustained, and the total expulsion of the Spanish 
families from the American continent ; amid the com- 
bined opposition of the white Creoles and the mulatto 
population, and with the at best precarious aUiance of 
the Indians; — how could the Spanish Government, 
with any probabiHty of success, undertake another 
transatlantic expedition ? 

But the recognition of the independence of the 
South American colonies, on the condition of their 
receiving the Spanish Infantes for their princes, and 
of adopting certain institutions to guarantee the sta- 
bility of their rule, would have rescued those great 
countries from all the evils of anarchy, and have in- 
sured to them, as well as to Spain, all the advantages 
of a lucrative trade. To the ties of blood, of lan- 
guage, and of religion, which bound the mother- 
country and her ancient colonies together, the bond 
of a kindred dynasty would now have been added. 
And then what calamities would those vast transat- 



148 Spain. 

lantic regions have been spared ! Spain had, doubt- 
less, committed enormous faults in the government 
of her colonies ; she had many wrongs to repair — 
many ameliorations to introduce, before she could 
make them free and flourishing communities. But, as 
I shewed on a former occasion, the odious restric- 
tions on their commercial intercourse with the parent 
state had been in latter years removed; and those 
countries, according to Humboldt, were making 
steady progress in civilisation. But what a spectacle 
have they exhibited since their separation ! The 
antagonism of parties envenomed by the antagonism 
of races ; ignoble republics, without a past and with- 
out a future, springing up into ephemeral existence, 
and then disappearing ; ambitious military chiefs con- 
tending for the mastery; justice, order, freedom, the 
Church, too frequently the victim of lawless factions ; 
the decrees which, as Dante says of his own Florence, 
were passed on the Wednesday reversed on the Satur- 
day ; and the different states, like their own volcanic 
mountain of Cotopaxi, ever torn, convulsed, and 
shattered by the unintermitting fires of intestine com- 
motion; — such, for the last forty years, has been the 
history of the South American Republics. 

The other point urged by Chateaubriand on the 
Spanish monarch, — namely, the convocation of the 
ancient Cortes, — was one long desired and recom- 
mended by the Catholic and monarchical leaders in 
Spain. A French deputy, M. Clausel de Coussergues, 



Ferdinand VII. 149 

who, from the year 1820 to 1823, had ample oppor- 
tunities of conversing, in the south of France, with the 
most distinguished Spanish refugee RoyaUsts, clerical 
and lay, declares that on this point he found them of 
one accord.* The testimony of this French magistrate, 
who had paid great attention to Spanish politics, is 
confirmed by that of a gentleman who has resided 
many years in Spain itself, and who has declared to 
me that he found the same view entertained by the 
abler members of the Royalist party. He added, 
however, that the less discerning and the more 
timorous expressed apprehensions as to the working 
of such a system in the critical juncture of Spanish 
affairs. Its adoption was advised by the French 
minister only when tranquillity had been perfectly 
restored, and every department of the public adminis- 
tration fully organized. 

Had Ferdinand VII., in 1824, followed this coun- 
sel, which was but in perfect unison with the solemn 
promise he had given in the Ordinance of 18 14, as 
well as with the sentiments of his wisest and most 
devoted adherents, he would have conciliated most 
of the Moderados, or moderate Liberals, whom disgust 
with real abuses had led to give ear to false theories 
of government. By this means he would have suc- 
ceeded in dividing, and thereby weakening the revo- 
lutionary party. But to the more decided enemies of 

* See his pamphlet, entitled " Les Affaires d'Espagne." 
Paris, 1823. 



150 Spain. 

the throne and of the altar, what could be more wel- 
come than a system of absolutism, which, by denying 
to the middle classes a full scope for their political 
activity, kept them dissatisfied and irritated ; which, by 
debarring the nobility from a participation in public 
affairs, perpetuated their ignorance and incapacity; 
by depriving the clergy of their full weight of political 
power, left them unprotected against the encroach- 
ments of the crown on their temporal privileges and 
possessions, and on their spiritual jurisdiction; and 
lastly, by isolating royalty itself from the other con- 
stituent bodies in the state, often abandoned it to the 
counsels of incapable or profligate adventurers % Let 
us not suppose that this admiration for the constitution 
of the three estates is a mere antiquarian predilection- 
This constitution, as I have already shewn,* is rooted 
in the very nature of things, and is intertwined with 
the very existence of modern European society. 
Those social elements, which elsewhere are depressed, 
or inverted, or brought into fierce collision, are here 
all in their fitting place, and in a state of harmonious 
equipoise. The absolutism which, two hundred years 
ago, superseded this temperate monarchy, and which 
had no small share in bringing about the Revolution 
of 1789 and its various imitations, has proved itself 
as impracticable in the nineteenth century, as it was 
dangerous in the seventeenth and the eighteenth. 

* See Lectures on some Subjects of Ancient and Modern His- 
tory: Lecture V. London; Dolman, 1858. 



Ferdinand VI I, 151 

The modern representative system, which grew out of 
those revolutions, and which left powerless and un- 
represented some of the most important members of 
human society, has failed to take root in any country, 
except in the small state of Belgium. The Catholic 
nations, that have so deeply suffered from absolutism, 
as well as from revolution, feel an instinctive yearn- 
ing for the old temperate monarchy. They long to 
revert to an order of things where the Church shall 
be free, where she shall hold at the same time a dig- 
nified position ; where the aristocracy shall be able 
effectually to defend the prerogatives of the crown, 
and the liberties of the people ; where the middle 
classes shall find a fitting scope for their political 
energies j where the provincial assemblies and the 
municipal corporations shall enjoy their autonomy; 
and where royalty, though limited, shall yet exercise a 
real and effective power. 

But to revert to Spain. Ferdinand VIL, who had 
now, since his second restoration, ruled Spain with 
considerable skill, though a skill devoid of generosity, 
and elevation of views, now suddenly reversed his 
policy, and let loose on his country the Revolution, 
which he had so long bridled. 

In 1828 he had married Maria Christina, a Nea- 
politan princess, the sister of the Duchess de Berri, 
by whom he had a daughter, Isabella, the now reign- 
ing queen of Spain. This princess, who was Ferdi- 
nand's fourth queen, by her beauty, her fascinating 



152 Spain. 

manners, as well as her spirit of intrigue, soon ob- 
tained an undue ascendency over the mind of her 
husband. She induced him (and he was but too 
willing to comply with her suggestion,) to alter the 
law of succession in favour of his young daughter. 

The Salic law, as we have seen, was passed by the 
Cortes at the accession of the Bourbon dynasty to 
the throne of Spain ; and by this law, as you are 
aware, females are excluded from the royal succes- 
sion. Ferdinand did not of course invoke the decree 
rescinding the Salic law, which was passed by the 
revolutionary Cortes of 1812; for all its acts he had 
in 1 8 14 solemnly annulled; and it could no more 
claim the authority of a legitimate Cortes, than the 
Conciliabulum of Ephesus could arrogate that of a 
General Council. 

The king pretended he had discovered in a secret 
chest a decree of the Cortes of 1789, ratified by his 
father, Charles IV., and which repealed the Salic law, 
and restored the old order of succession to the throne. 
This, it must be owned, had been always the more 
popular in Spain. But such a decree, even if it had 
been really made, had no force ; for a law not pro- 
mulgated is null and void. Had the king now con- 
vened the legitimate Cortes of the three estates, and 
obtained their consent to the abohtion of the Salic 
law, (harsh as such a proceeding would have been to 
his excellent brother, Don Carlos,) he yet might have 
established on a secure basis the rights of his daughter 



Death of Ferdinand VII. 153 

to the throne. Instead of this course, which wisdom 
and equity prescribed, the monarch summons to 
Cortes such members only of the three orders as 
were in his interest, and requires them to swear 
allegiance to his daughter, Isabella. To this effect 
he makes his last will ; but in a severe fit of illness 
which afterwards ensues, his conscience smites him, 
and he alters his will in behalf of his brother, Don 
Carlos. On his recovery, the intrigues of the queen 
and of one of the princesses of the royal family in- 
duce the monarch to make a second alteration in his 
last testament in favour of his daughter. He hereby 
reverses the whole policy of his life j and dying shortly 
afterwards, in 1833, bequeaths civil war and revolu- 
tion to his country. 

The queen, Maria Christina, whom Ferdinand by 
his will had appointed regent of the kingdom, en- 
deavoured at first to govern according to the princi- 
ples of the late king. Yet, though a portion of the 
Conservatives espoused the cause of Isabella, the 
great bulk of the party took the side of Don Carlos. 
This prince appealed to arms in defence of his rights, 
and the regent, to counterbalance his force, threw 
herself in desperation into the arms of the Revolution. 
A bloody, protracted civil war of seven years ensued, 
which brought Spain to the very verge of destruction. 
Had the life of the heroic Zumalcarregui been spared, 
there is every probability that the queen-regent, 
though possessed of all the resources of government, 



154 Spain. 

the military forces, and the treasury, and though sup- 
ported, too, by a portion of the Conservatives and the 
whole revolutionary party, and by not only the moral 
countenance, but the active aid of Great Britain, 
France, and Portugal, the queen-mother, I say, would 
yet have succumbed, and her rival, Don Carlos, have 
entered the capital in triumph. That this prince 
should have raised* the standard of civil war, is a 
circumstance deeply to be deplored. In such a 
desperate game, he risked the very existence of the 
prize he was contending for. Valuable as is dynastic 
legitimacy, its claims must yield to the superior 
interests of religion, of social order, of freedom, and 
of the wellbeing of all classes of society. After the 
dreadful calamities of the War of Independence, after 
the convulsions of the Revolution of 1820, peace — 
peace was the first want of Spain, maimed and lacer- 
ated as she still was. To open her wounds afresh, 
was to expose her to certain ruin. Prudence, justice, 
humanity, suggested the necessity of a compromise 
between the rival claimants to the throne ; and a pro- 
ject of matrimonial alliance between the eldest son of 
Don Carlos and the young queen, on both attaining 
to their majority, would, if proposed and ratified at 
this time, have spared the country the horrors of civil 
war, and have protected the interests of the Church, 
of the monarchy, and of all classes of the nation. 
But it was otherwise ordained. The demon of An- 
archy now stalked abroad through the land, followed 



The Civil War. 155 

by his satellites, Rapine, Sacrilege, and Slaughter. 
The Revolution, after a bloody struggle, at last tri- 
umphed ; and that triumph was marked by the sup- 
pression of the religious orders of both sexes, the cruel 
banishment of the consecrated inmates from their 
loved abodes, the total spoHation of the Church, and 
every species of outrage and oppression heaped on 
the episcopate and the clergy. The bishoprics left 
vacant ; the parochial clergy kept in arrears of their 
small pittance j the holy virgins of the cloister daily 
menaced with famine ; the offices of religion stripped 
of their splendour, and sometimes even rudely inter- 
rupted j the remonstrances and menaces of the Holy 
See despised ; and an insensate government vainly 
striving to precipitate a faithful people into the abyss 
of religious schism ; — such was the sad spectacle Spain 
then offered to the world. The queen-mother, who 
had sacrificed so many sacred rights and interests on 
the altar of her ambition, is compelled to flee the 
country, and leave her infant daughter to the tender 
mercies of the Revolution. 

Black, indeed, seemed now the prospects of Spain ; 
and the avenging angel se^ed about to pour out 
another vial on this devoted land, when his wrath was 
stayed by the uplifted arms of the great Pontiff, 
Gregory XVI. In 1842 he ordained prayers and 
processions throughout the whole Catholic world in 
behalf of Spain, and for the deliverance of her Church 
from a cruel bondage. And lo ! the waves of anarchy 



156 Spain, 

immediately subside ; the calm and sunshine of order 
return by degrees to the tempest-beaten land. The 
violent chiefs of the Revolution are overturned ; the 
counsels of wisdom and moderation prevail; religion 
is once more held up to veneration ; the Church re- 
gains some of her more indispensable rights, and the 
possession of others is promised. Statesmen, too, who 
thirty or thirty-five years ago were infidel and revolu- 
tionary, have been taught wisdom in the rude school 
of adversity, and have found in religion not only a 
light for the conscience, but a beacon for the state 
also. If the ruined churches, the tenantless and 
mouldering abbeys which now disfigure Spain, tell too 
truly of the recent triumph of irreligion — a spectacle 
that produced so painful an impression on the Pro- 
testant traveller. Lady Louisa Tennyson;- — if the irre- 
ligious tone prevalent in certain circles excited her 
disgust; there are, on the other hand, many symptoms 
of religious improvement. The tenacity with which 
the immense majority of all classes of Spaniards have 
clung to the Church amid all her disasters ; the re- 
newed zeal of the clergy ; the alacrity with which, 
since the prohibition has. been removed, novices have 
flocked to the convents ;* the discredit into which, 

* " Since the late suppression of the convents," says a recent 
Protestant author of a very interesting work, ** the government 
has left the poor sisterhoods a few of their homes, in the capital 
and elsewhere ; and there were, a few years ago, about five hun- 
dred nuns or other professed religious women in Madrid, of 
whom forty-five belonged to the family of Teresa, But there is 



The Religious Revival. 157 

among the higher classes and the literati, irreligion has 
fallen ; the zeal and piety of the queen, Isabella II. ; 
the excellent prelates that adorn the Church; the 
increased number and efficiency of the ecclesiastical 
seminaries ; the more devout spirit of the laity, mani- 
fested, among other things, in the wide spread, among 
the upper and middle classes, of the pious and chari- 
table confraternity of St Vincent of Paul ; lastly, the 
very distinguished writers and orators that have sprung 
up to defend religion and society, and some of whom 
have attained to the highest order of excellence; — these 
are surely signs that a better day has dawned upon 
Spain. Writing of that country, in 1843, ^^ eminent 
Spanish divine and philosopher, whom I have already 
had occasion to quote, says : ^^ In these latter times 
the religious sentiment has revived and expanded in 
the most consoling manner ; the spirit of irreligion 
has lost much of its force ; the antipathy against the 
clergy has so declined, that there is more than half a 
century between the year 1843 ^^d the year 1834; 
but still the misery of the clergy increases every day," 
&c.* This was before the new settlement of eccle- 
siastical affairs. The same statement was made by 
an illustrious English CathoHc dignitary, who visited 

an increasing number of sisters of charity at Madrid and in other 
places ; and it may be hoped that the charitable labours of these 
good persons may prove a beneficial substitute for what is now 
vanishing away." — Gongora and his Times. By E. Churton. 
London: Murray, 1862. 

* Melanges de Balmez, t. i., p. 269. 



158 Spain. 

Spain in 1845. Cardinal Wiseman was informed by 
persons of weight and authority, that the infideUty 
which twenty years before had been so rife in certain 
quarters, had now lost its force and prestige. " There 
is," says his Eminence, " too much good preserved, 
too much evil well endured, for us not to hope ; there 
is too much faith and too much charity in the people, 
too much zeal and confessor-like patience in her 
clergy, too much holiness in her cloistered virgins, 
too much apostolic firmness in her episcopacy, for us 
to fear that the Spirit of God has passed away from 
poor Spain, or that she has been chastened with other 
than with the rod of children, the forerunner ever of a 
more paternal care.* The hopes then expressed by his 

* Dublin Review^ vol. xviii., p. 485. Anno 1845. The interest- 
ing paper in the same periodical for last July, (1863,) entitled 
** Popular Devotion in Spain," proves how happily the auguries 
of his Eminence have been fulfilled. The writer, on the testi- 
mony of grave and well-informed persons, with whom he had 
conversed during his recent visit to Spain, affirms that such is 
the fervent piety of the people, that if the monasteries, like the 
female convents, were reopened, they would, like the latter, be 
refilled with the same alacrity and zeal. I may observe that the 
Piarists, or disciples of St Calasanzio, intrusted with the educa- 
tion of boys of all classes, have not been disturbed by the Revolu- 
tion. The mother-house of Loyola has been, with the sanction 
of government, reopened, but only for the supply of missionaries 
to the Philippine Islands. The writer notices many happy 
symptoms of a religious revival in Spain. Among others, the 
most important is the great improvement in the higher classes. 
*^ A generation or two ago," says he, *'the ideas of the Ency- 
clopaedia were a passport to society ; they are now an absolute 
bar to an entrance into it." 



The Political Revival. 159 

Eminence have now, thanks to that Providence who 
watches over His Church, been happily reahzed. 
With the progress of rehgion, we see also the elements 
of political disorder gradually disappear ; a growing 
conciliation of parties ; a very considerable improve- 
ment in agriculture, commerce, and internal com- 
munications, in the naval and military forces of the 
country, as well as a new life and energy infused into 
literature and science.* The revolutionary move- 
ments, that from time to time within the last twenty 
years have arisen, have been less violent and more 
transient, and are like the last undulations of a deeply- 
agitated sea. 

The two peculiarities of the Spanish Revolution, 
and which contradistinguish it from the French, — viz., 
the divisions in the royal family, and the predomi- 
nance of the mihtary class, — are not yet quite effaced. 

In regard to the first point, I remarked, on the last 
occasion I had the honour of addressing you, the 
unhappy dissensions fomented by the minister Godoi 
between Charles IV. and his queen on the one hand, 
and the Prince of Asturias, afterwards Ferdinand VII., 

* See, for the revival of material prosperity in Spain, **L'Es- 
pagne en i860," par M. Vidal; and an article in the Quarterly 
Review^ January 1862, pp. 147-175. See, too, the **Anuario 
Estadistico de EspaiSa," 1858. Vide Edinbtcrgh Review, vol. 
cxiv., p. 199. Both the Reviews, however, overlook the moral 
and intellectual revival that has accompanied the return of pro- 
sperity in Spain. For the intellectual revival, see *' Etudes 
Litt^raires sur I'Espagne contemporaine." Par M. de Latour. 
Paris, 1864. 



1 6o Spain. 

on the other — dissensions which so fearfully aggra- 
vated the calamities of Spain. The pretensions of 
Don Carlos to the throne were, in the last years of 
Ferdinand, the source of fresh discord in the royal 
family ; and on the death of that monarch, the do- 
mestic disputes, as we have seen, exploded in a long, 
disastrous civil war. A marriage-treaty made in time, 
if accompanied with wise political measures, would 
have certainly prevented the outbreak of this enor- 
mous evil. Twice has the golden opportunity been 
lost of restoring concord in the palace, and of binding 
the hearts of all Spaniards to the throne. Once be- 
fore the civil war, and once after its termination, in 
the year 1847, when a wise and healing policy was 
frustrated by the selfish craftiness of the then French 
monarch, who, in the alUance in question, substituted 
for the Spanish princes members of his own family. 
The recent attempt, which has met with no response 
in Spain, to disturb the reigning dynasty, will prob- 
ably be the last ever hazarded from the same quarter; 
and I should say that the final reconciliation between 
the two branches of the royal family, if not actually 
accomplished, is on the eve of its accomplishment* 

The other abuse — the predominance of the military 
class — would, if continued, be fatal to order and 
liberty in Spain. The elegant authoress whom I just 

* Since this Lecture was delivered, this reconciliation has 
taken place. All the Carlist leaders, too, have paid their 
homage to the reigning queen, Isabella II. 



Conchtsion. 1 6 1 

now quoted, was struck, on entering into the palace 
of the Cortes, with the numerical preponderance of the 
military in the Senate or Upper House. Even within 
the comparatively tranquil period of the last twenty 
years we have seen generals place themselves at the 
head of mutinous regiments, set aside a ministry that 
displeased them, dictate to the Crown and the Cortes, 
and usurp the reins of power. This practice, in a far 
more aggravated form, is the curse of the South 
American republics. But this abuse will disappear in 
proportion as the priesthood recovers its pohtical 
rights; as the aristocracy, roused from an ignoble 
sloth by the stirring events of the last forty years, 
takes its due position in society; in proportion as the 
bulk of the people gains faith in popular institutions ; 
and as Royalty, emancipated from ministerial tutelage, 
resumes its free, independent veto. In other words, 
the present system of government is, in my opinion, 
a mere point of transition to those Cortes of the three 
Estates, under which Spain in former ages obtained so 
much freedom and glory. "^ 



* That this is no fanciful theory the following incident will 
shew. It was but a very short time ago a Madrid journal, the 
organ of Marshal O'Donnell — whom all true friends of Spain 
must regret not to see still at the helm of government — threw 
out a hint of a military revolt. It was only the assurance of two 
friends of the Marshal that, however dissatisfied with the pre- 
sent administration, he would never sanction an appeal to arms, 
that allayed the apprehensions of the queen. If Marshal 

L 



1 62 Spain, 

But how can I conclude my account of this in- 
teresting nation, without an allusion to the ties of 
affinity and friendship that have ever bound it to the 
generous people I am now addressing 1 Both were 
closely connected in their origin; both, at a later 
period, had frequent commercial intercourse ; and, in 
their hour of sorrow and oppression, what a generous 
hospitahty did not the sons of Erin find on the shores 
of Iberia ! Then, as your exquisite lyric poet sings, 
then were intertwined " the shamrock of Erin and 
the olive of Spain f then, in family alHances, both 
have intertwined their affections, and on many a glori- 
ous battle-field have intertwined their laurels. Both 
have ever been distinguished for the same military 
ardour, the same love of romantic adventure, the same 
rich and almost Oriental glow of fancy. And both, 

O'Donnell were not so loyal and patriotic a man, he might 
upset the government, or at least throw it into the most serious 
embarrassments. But had Ferdinand VII., in 1 814, fulfilled his 
pledge of restoring the Cortes of the three Estates, the dangerous 
ascendancy of military chiefs, which, among so many other 
calamities, the Revolution has produced, would not have been 
possible. The present system, however, with all its shortcom- 
ings and defects, is a great improvement on Absolutism. The 
two men who, under God, have saved Spain are Marshals 
Narvaez and O'Donnell. The energy of the first overthrew the 
impious tyranny of Espartero ; the wisdom of the second has 
consolidated order, prosperity, and freedom in Spain. The 
third element of stability has been the submission of the Carlist 
chiefs — a submission that has rallied the whole Spanish family 
round the throne of Isabella II. 



Conclusion. 163 

too — one in the languor of political decline, the other 
under severe religious persecution — have evinced the 
same elastic energy of character, the same unswerving 
devotion to the principles of monarchy and of well- 
regulated freedom, the same unconquerable love for 
the Catholic Church. 



REMARKS ON SOME PASSAGES IN BUCKLE'S 
ESSAY ON SPAIN, IN HIS HISTORY OF CIVILI- 
ZATION. 

A SUPPLEMENT TO THE FOREGOING LECTURES. 

CINCE these Lectures were first delivered, an 
elaborate Essay has been written on Spain. Mr 
Buckle in his notorious work, the '' History of Civili- 
zation," has attempted, with much ingenuity and very 
considerable research, to explain the history of the 
Church and the Monarchy of Spain. For a man re- 
jecting all supernatural revelation, and holding even 
a sort of materiahstic Pantheism, the attempt, as may 
be supposed, was utterly preposterous. An explana- 
tion of the doctrines and rites of Holy Mass by a 
Turk, or even a commentary on the Gospel of St 
John by a professed Atheist, could scarcely be more 
absurd and incongruous. On the whole, this " His- 
tory of CiviHzation," with all the ability and learning 
it displays, is not only an impious, but a portentously 
absurd work. To gauge the State, and especially the 
Church in Spain, Mr Buckle's measures are not only 
defective, but are of a kind essentially inadequate. 



Essay on Spain. 165 

The very objects, too, to which those measures are 
to be apphed often elude his grasp. 

^The Edinburgh Review has, according to the mea- 
sure of its light, given an able refutation of the more 
gross and palpable errors of this author in regard to 
the Spanish Church and State \ and for this service it 
is, I think, entitled to the thanks of the Christian 
world. It will now be my duty to endeavour, accord- 
ing to the best of my abihty, to supply the short- 
comings, and to correct the mistakes, into which a 
Protestant in the execution of such a task would 
naturally fall. 

The reviewer well confutes the statement of Mr 
Buckle as to the frequency of earthquakes in Spain, 
which that author had absurdly alleged as the chief 
cause of Spanish superstition. He shews, from the 
published Report of Professor Mallet, that from the 
eleventh century earthquakes have been less frequent 
in Spain than in any other European country, not 
excepting the British isles ; and that the existence of 
many very ancient edifices in Spain proves that the 
shocks have not been of a violent kind. He next 
shews that, contrary to the assertion of Mr Buckle as 
to the dryness of the soil of southern Spain, it is pre- 
cisely there that the most ancient and most perfect 
systems of irrigation in Europe are to be seen. 

Then Mr Buckle's theory of physical causes utterly 
fails, as the reviewer well observes, to account for 
such momentous phenomena as the Moorish invasion, 



1 66 Remarks on Buckle'' s 

and the discovery of America. The gross misrepre- 
sentation of the state of poHtical freedom and of 
political knowledge among the Spaniards of the me- 
diaeval times, as committed by this paradoxical writer, 
is also well pointed out by his critic. So far the 
Edinburgh reviewer. 

I shall now proceed briefly to notice the statements 
of Mr Buckle as to the relations between faith and 
science, next as to the relations between the clergy 
and the laity, and then as to the alleged tendency of 
physical science to promote scepticism. After this 
preliminary inquiry, I will examine with more detail 
his assertions as to the influence of the Spanish 
Church on the political freedom, and the economical 
and intellectual condition of Spain in the various ages 
of her history, and more particularly in the period 
that has been the subject of the foregoing Lectures. 

I. " In Spain, as in all countries. Catholic or Pro- 
testant," says Mr Buckle, " the clergy, considered as a 
body, inculcate belief instead of inquiry, and, by a 
sort of conservative instinct, discourage that boldness 
of investigation, without which there can be no real 
knowledge, although there may be much erudition 
and mere book-learning.'^ ^' 

This passage embraces the whole important subject 

of the relations between faith and science. The 

assertion is utterly false in regard to the Protestant 

as well as the CathoHc clergy; but as it is in the 

* Hist, of Civ., vol. ii., p, 147. Note. 



Essay on Spain. 167 

true Church alone the relations between faith and 
science are clearly and accurately defined, I will con- 
fine myself in this matter to a defence of the Catholic 
Church. Faith is, indeed, a divine gift — faith is the 
testimony of things unseen — faith reposes on a 
revelation graciously vouchsafed by God ; but the 
motives to belief, under the grace of God, lie within 
the sphere of human reason. The Catholic clergy- 
man, any more than the Catholic layman, does not 
require the unbeliever or the misbeliever, as the case 
may be, blindly to submit to the teachings of the 
Church. He will tell him to invoke by earnest 
prayer the grace of God, but at the same time to 
weigh and examine the evidences of revealed re- 
ligion, or the proofs of the one true Church. But 
when once the blessed light of faith has illumined 
the soul of the Neophyte, then the door is for ever 
closed against doubt, but not against inquiry. The 
Neophyte must study the Scriptures, for ''they bear 
witness to Christ,'' and, as the holy apostle saith, he 
must '' be ever ready to answer for the faith that is 
in him f he must, according to his ability or his 
profession, intrench that faith with the outworks of 
human science. / Henceforth he will no longer grope 
as in the dark ; but round about his path of inquiry 
wall shine the steady light of divine truth. Theology 
comes more or less in contact with every science, and 
so far from cramping the human mind, calls forth its 
every faculty, and gives to each a wondrous energy. 



1 68 Remarks on Buckle s 

Had they, then, but "mere book-learnmg " those 
giant intellects of the early Church — those mighty 
speculatists as well as practical teachers, from Clemens 
Alexandrinus and his disciple Origen, down to St 
Augustine, who closes the illustrious line of the 
ancient fathers % Had they " no boldness of investiga- 
tion " those subtle dialecticians and deep thinkers — 
a St Anselm, a St Thomas Aquinas, a St Bonaven- 
tura, an Alexander Hales, and other great doctors of 
the mediaeval times % And since the revival of letters, 
what a wondrous combination of learning, eloquence, 
acuteness, and depth of thought in a Suarez, a Pas- 
cal, a Bossuet, a Fenelon, a Malebranche, and a 
Leibnitz, Ivho, without entering into the CathoHc 
Church, subscribed to all her doctrines !* And in 
our own age, what great thinkers and writers have 
adorned the Church in France and in Germany, 
while Italy and Spain have furnished a most remark- 
able contingent ! The catalogue of illustrious divines 
and philosophers fostered by Catholicism would swell 
these remarks to too great a length. It is remarkable, 
too, that the most powerful minds of Protestantism, 
when imbued with piety, have ever evinced a strong 
leaning towards our Church. Such were Bishop 
Butler, Johnson, and Burke in England ; Grotius in 
Holland, and the physiologist Haller in Switzerland. 
The evidences of religion address themselves not 

* See his " Systema Theologicum," in which he expresses his 
entire concurrence with the doctrines of the Council of Trent. 



Essay on Spain, 169 

only to the cultivated mind, but to the unlearned 
also. The unlettered peasant, who has the same 
faith with Bossuet and Pascal, cannot of course 
" answer for that faith which is within him " with the 
same precision, and the same fulness, and the same 
force, as those great masters of human thought and 
eloquence. But are we to suppose that he is without 
rehgious evidences of any kind % Are we to suppose 
that, while carrying within him a heavenly fire, he 
neither sees its hght, nor feels its warmth? In the 
order of Nature, — in the vicissitudes of the seasons — 
in the shower, which fertihzes his field — in the sun, 
which calls forth its flowers — in the diseases that afflict 
his cattle, — he feels the chastening or the soothing or 
the controlling hand of Divine providence. In the 
pangs of remorse, in the joy of a good conscience, in 
the inward illumination which the Word of God pro- 
duces, in the cleansing and the renovating power of 
the divine Sacraments, he feels the awful presence of 
the Deity. How strongly, too, does that Power prove 
itself in the hours of sickness or of misfortune ! How 
weak, how unstable is morality without religion, and 
how conducive is virtue even to worldly success, the 
unlettered man cannot help seeing ! Nor is he bhnd 
to those terrible retributions >vhich from time to 
time follow on wickedness, and especially on impiety. 
I pass over in silence those extraordinary interpo- 
sitions of Divine grace that, directly or indirectly, 
may come to his knowledge. 



1 70 Remarks on Buckle s 

So in matters of religion, even the uncultivated 
mind is not wholly passive; but a merciful God 
wonderfully adapts the proofs of His revelation to 
the humblest capacity. 

II. The relations between the Catholic clergy and 
laity will require but a few observations. Mr Buckle 
draws a line of demarcation between them which 
does not exist in fact. The laity are bound to be- 
lieve in the same doctrines, practise the same virtues, 
and are regulated by the same general code of dis- 
cipline with the clergy. The clergy, in the teaching 
of letters, arts, science, and philosophy, adopt not 
different methods, nor inculcate principles different 
from the laity. This author was, perhaps, misled by 
the example of the Anglican Church, where, as a 
very eminent divine'^* has recently remarked, the 
majority of laymen, since the Revolution of 1688, 
have never held the hierarchical and sacramental 
doctrines embraced by a large portion of the clergy. 
This reminds one of the Enghsh Deists of the 
seventeenth century, who, knowing Christianity only 
through the distorted medium of the sect in which 
they had been bred, charged the former with neglect- 
ing good works, and insisting only on the necessity 
of faith ! 

Mr Buckle seems, indeed, to consider the laity 
as necessarily anti-theological, (to use one of his 
favourite phrases,) and to confound the great Chris- 
* Dr Manning. 



Essay on Spain. 171 

tian philosophers of former ages with those of his 
own miserable school. Let us hear how he speaks of 
the illustrious Bacon and Descartes. ^^In Europe 
generally," says he, ^^the seventeenth century was 
distinguished by the rise of a secular literature, in 
which ecclesiastical theories were disregarded \ the 
most influential writers, such as Bacon and Descartes, 
being laymen, rather hostile to the Church than 
friendly to it, and composing their works with views 
purely temporal. But in Spain no change of this sort 
occurred. In that country the Church retained her 
hold over the highest as well as the lowest intellects.''"^ 

Whatever might be the grave faults in the moral 
character of our illustrious Bacon, none, save Vol- 
taire and his colleagues, the French encyclopaedists, 
ever questioned his sincere belief in Divine revelation. 
To expose the calumnies of his irreligious country- 
men against the great English Christian philosopher, 
the learned and pious abbe Emery composed his 
work, entitled " Le Christianisme de Bacon.'' 

As to Descartes, he expressly stated that his me- 
thodical doubt applied not to the truths of revelation, 
but to matters of human knowledge. I remember 
long ago reading in some number of the Edinburgh 
Review^ "that Descartes, the boldest innovator in 
philosophy, was the most submissive of Catholics." 
In the last years of his life this great philosopher be- 
came practically devout also. 

* Hist, of Civ., vol. ii., pp. 48, 49. 



172 Remarks on Buckle s 

It is truly amusing to hear Mr Buckle talk of the 
secular literature of the seventeenth century, "in 
which ecclesiastical theories were disregarded/^ If 
we except Descartes, Corneille, Racine, Moliere, 
La Bruyere, and D'Aguesseau, we find that all the 
great French writers and orators of that age were 
members of the priesthood. It is surely needless to 
cite the great names of Bossuet, Fenelon, Huet, Male- 
branche, Bourdaloue, Massillon, Arnauld, Nicole, 
Flechier. If Pascal was a layman, he was still 
a religious recluse. The layman, Fontenelle, was 
the connecting link between the seventeenth and 
eighteenth centuries. And as regards England in 
the seventeenth century, what would become of 
her literature, if we were to strike out the works of 
the eminent dignitaries of her Protestant Church, — a 
Hooker, an Andrewes, a Hall, a Jeremy Taylor, a 
Pearson, a Barrow, a South? As to Spain, her 
literary men of that age seem fairly enough divided 
between the Church and the army. Had her ancient 
Cortes been preserved, and had her trade and in- 
dustry not been languishing, her laity, doubtless, 
would have been at once more wealthy, and more 
intellectual. A body of secular literati^ independent 
of any profession, is doubtless a sign of advanced 
civilization ; for it shews the diffusion of wealth, the 
subdivision of classes, the spread of intellectual cul- 
tivation and refinement. And when that body of 
secular literati is devoted to the Church, then great 



Essay on Spain. 173 

blessings flow to society. It is the glory of this age 
that so many noble works in defence of religion, in 
France and in Catholic Germany especially, should 
have come from the pens of laymen. 

III. But we are told that the great moral and in- 
tellectual quahties of the Spaniards avail them nothing 

so long as they remain ignorant ^^The sole 

course," says Mr Buckle, "is to weaken the super- 
stition of the people ; and this can only be done by 
that march of physical science, which, familiarizing 
men with conceptions of order and of regularity, 
gradually encroaches on the old notions of perturba- 
tion, of prodigy, and of miracle, and by this means 
aqcustoms the mind to explain the vicissitudes of 
affairs by natural considerations, instead of, as hereto- 
fore, by those which are purely supernatural."'^ 

Strange that physical science should be so inimical 
to religion, which, in the vocabulary of Mr Buckle, is 
synonymous with superstition, since from the earliest 
ages it was precisely at the altar the torch of know- 
ledge was kindled ! The truths of physical science, 
which the ancient nations possessed, had been derived 
from primitive tradition, confirmed and amplified by 
observation. But even among the most enlightened 
nations of heathen antiquity, the progress of natural 
philosophy encountered the most serious obstacles, 
and this for important reasons. Firsts The philo- 
sophical schools were exclusively engaged in the in- 
* Hist, of Civ., vol. ii., p. 146. 



1 74 Remarks on Buckle s 

vestigation of the fundamental truths of moral and 
social life. Secondly^ The heathens, for the most part, 
looked on Nature with a sort of mysterious awe and 
dread, and, considering her more or less as a sort of 
portion of the Divinity, were loth to subject her to 
close investigation. But Christianity, by emancipat- 
ing man from the bondage of external nature, by con- 
firming old truths and revealing new doctrines, by 
accurately defining the boundaries between matters of 
faith and matters of opinion, and thus presenting to 
the human mind at once a starting-point, a stadium, 
and a goal for its inquiries, gave an immense impetus 
to physical as well as to metaphysical researches. 

Unless a solid and profound system of moral 
philosophy predominates, natural science will not 
make any considerable progress. Accordingly, after 
the early Fathers of the Church, and the mediaeval 
doctors had brought theological and metaphysical 
science to a high state of perfection, physics began to 
be cultivated by Christians. To cite but a few emi- 
nent names, Gerbert, afterwards Pope Sylvester II., 
in the tenth century ; Albert the Great, the teacher 
of St Thomas Aquinas, and Roger Bacon in the 
thirteenth century; Cardinal Nicholas of Cusa and 
Regiomontanus in the fifteenth ; and the Canon Co- 
pernicus and Tycho Brahe in the sixteenth, may be 
named among the early and successful votaries of 
physical science. After the discoveries of Coperni- 
cus, natural philosophy makes the most rapid and 



Essay on Spain. 175 

gigantic strides. A noble emulation in the pursuit of 
science springs up between Catholics and Protestants 
in the course of the sixteenth and seventeenth cen- 
turies. And it is pleasing to think that the great 
naturalists of those ages, whether belonging to the 
Catholic or the Protestant Churches, and whose 
genius far transcended not only all who had preceded, 
but all, or nearly all, who have followed them in their 
investigations, were men sincerely attached to re- 
ligion, and that many were even remarkable for 
practical piety. In confirmation of this statement, I 
need but cite the illustrious names of Columbus, 
D'Acosta, Herrera, Clavius, Galileo, Borelli, Torricelli, 
Cavalieri, D. Cassini, and Ricci, in Italy; Kepler 
and Leibnitz, in Germany ; Descartes, Gassendi, Pas- 
cal, Huyghens, in France ; Napier, Harvey, Barrow, 
Boyle, Wallis, Newton, in Great Britain, to illustrate 
the happy harmony of faith and science. In the 
eighteenth century, an age when, unfortunately, among 
literati as well as among scientific men, unbelief was 
so widely spread, we find among others the great 
mathematicians Jacquier and Boscovich ; the physi- 
cian Morgagni, Spallanzani, the physiologist Haller, 
Bonnet, Boerhaave, Linnaeus, Hunter, the mathema- 
tician Euler, and the abbe Haiiy,as distinguished for 
their devotion to religion, as for eminent services to 
science. That age cultivated natural philosophy with 
extraordinary ardour ; but it was pilscisely its frivolous 
unbelief and gross materialism that dimmed the intui- 



1 76 Remarks on Buckle s 

tions, and fettered the flight of genius. Compared 
^dth its predecessor, it could boast of few great dis- 
coveries; and it did little more than improve and 
enlarge the magnificent domain bequeathed to it by 
the age of Newton and of Leibnitz. 

In the present century, which may be characterized 
as one of struggle between faith and scepticism, it 
is delightful to see even in France, where physics 
had been so deeply corrupted, Ampere, the great 
mathematician Baron Cauchy, the eminent me- 
chanician M. Binel, the abbe La Treille, and M. 
Margerin, among other men of science that could 
be named, so devoted to the Church. Nor must 
the attachment of the illustrious Cuvier to Revela- 
tion be passed over in silence. In Italy we meet 
with the distinguished names of the Jesuit astrono- 
mers De Vico and Secchi, and the chemist Pianci- 
ani. In England, the late illustrious Sir Humphrey 
Davy, Sir John Herschel, Faraday, and Professor 
Owen present a very pleasing picture of the union of 
Christian philosophy with physical researches. In 
Germany, during the present age, some very eminent 
philosophers and naturalists. Catholic and Protestant, 
like Schubert, Steffens, Baader, Pfaff, Gorres, Ring- 
seis, have sought to bring about a Christian regenera- 
tion of physical science. The celebrated Schelling, 
whose philosophy at the commencement of this cen- 
tury gave a great Impulse to those sciences, long ago 
renounced the subtle Spinozism of his youth, openly 



Essay on Spain. 177 

professed his belief in the divine inspiration of the 
Bible, and in the sacred dogmas of the Trinity and of 
the Incarnation, and approximated to the Catholic 
Church. 

It is, indeed, only by the light of revelation we 
can decipher the mysterious inscriptions of Nature. 
Sometimes a word in them, ill-interpreted, will seem 
to contradict the Bible ; but further observation 
sooner or later removes the apparent contradiction, 
and displays the perfect agreement between the two 
Books, which both came from the hand of God. 

So, I trust, I have satisfactorily disposed by ex- 
amples, as well as by reasoning, of Mr Buckle's 
groundless assertion, that "the march of physical 
science tends to weaken the religion," or, as he is 
pleased to term it, " the superstition of the people." 

After these preliminary observations, I proceed to 
discuss, and with more advantage, the main topics in 
Mr Buckle's Essay. 

IV. Now let us consider the influence of the 
Spanish Church on the intellectual condition of the 
country. 

Mr Buckle's glowing panegyric on the many vir- 
tues which characterize the Spaniards, has been 
already cited. It is evident that such a people must, 
as I before observed, even according to a heathen 
sage, have been blessed with sound principles of 
rehgion. Virtues so superior to corrupt Nature must 
have a celestial origin. A false and debasing super- 

M 



178 Remarks on Buckle s 

stition never did, and never could produce such 
admirable fruits. The spectacle of virtues, which 
this author could not deny, should have made him 
more calmly and more closely investigate the re- 
ligious tenets of this nation, and reconsider the prin- 
ciples of his own miserable philosophy. 

It is evident that a people so high-minded and 
generous, so truthful and frank, so brave and humane, 
must possess corresponding intellectual qualities, and 
must, at a certain period of its civihzation, bring forth 
a noble literature. Accordingly, we are told by this 
writer that the Spaniards "speak a beautiful, sono- 
rous, and flexible language, and that their literature is 
not unworthy of their language^' We are further told 
that they have cultivated the fine arts with eminent 
success; "their noble and exquisite paintings, and 
their magnificent churches, being justly ranked among 
the most wonderful efforts of the human hand."* 
Nor was it in literature and the fine arts only the 
Spanish people excelled. We are further told t " that 
they had rich and flourishing towns, abundant manu- 
factures, and skilful artizans, whose choice produc- 
tions could secure a ready sale in every market in the 
world." Surely, then, nothing has been wanting to 
rank that country, in her flourishing periods, among 
the most civilized of the world. But no ; this para- 
doxical writer assures us that all these high moral 

* Hist, of Civ., by H. T. Buckle, vol. ii., p. 143. 
+ Ibid. 



Essay on Spain. 1 79 

qualities, and splendid intellectual achievements, 
" have availed the Spaniards nothing, and will avail 
them nothing so long as they remain ignorant/'* 
Again he says, "they have had everything except 
knowledge." t 

One would have thought that a nation that had 
produced such skilful artizans, such exquisite painters, 
sculptors, and architects, such original poets in every 
branch of the art, such elegant and sagacious his- 
torians, such eminent divines, such sublime mystics, 
might have laid fair claims to knowledge. Was she, 
then, deficient in civil wisdom and military science % 
No ; for the same authority assures us that the Span- 
iards have had their " full share of great statesmen, 
great kings, great magistrates, and great legislators." 
Where, then, was the great intellectual deficiency] 
Ah ! the unpardonable crime of Spain is, that she 
was, and still is Christian ; that, further, she was, and 
still is Catholic. She believes in a supernatural 
revelation — she believes in a ruhng Providence — she 
beheves in the occasional interposition of the Deity to 
carry out His beneficent designs, to check the abuses 
of human free-will, and to counteract the agency of 
those apostate angels bent on man's destruction. 

Our materialist prescribes, for the complete intel- 
lectual regeneration of that country, " to weaken the 
superstition of the people; and this can only be 

* Hist, of Civ., by H. T. Buckle, vol. ii., p. 146. 
t Ibid., p. 142. 



1 8o Remarks on Buckle s 

done by that march of physical science, which, fa- 
miharizing men with conceptions of order and of 
regularity, gradually encroaches on the old notions of 
perturbation, of prodigy, and of miracle, and by this 
means accustoms the mind to explain the vicissitudes 
of affairs by natural considerations, instead of, as 
heretofore, by those which are purely supernatural. ''* 

The fruits of this philosophy the world already 
knows too well. It knows that it produced the 
chaotic confusion and the bloody terrorism of 1793. 
The noble civilization of Spain, moral and intel- 
lectual, in its origin, its growth, its maturity, its decay, 
and its revival, though sometimes checked by adverse 
circumstances, was the offspring of that Divine reli- 
gion, which renovated the face of the earth. 

The charge of unvarying ignorance brought against 
a people whom Mr Buckle admits to have, at certain 
periods of its existence, attained to a very high degree 
of intellectual culture, is most absurd and incon- 
sistent The greatest literary critics and historians 
have admitted that, from the middle of the fifteenth 
century to the close of the sixteenth, Spain and Italy 
were the two European countries most advanced in 
mental cultivation. And it is remarkable that the 
testimonies as to the ignorance of the Spaniards 
brought forward by Mr Buckle, never relate to the 
flourishing periods of their history and of their litera- 
ture. The physical sciences first vigorously flourished 
* Hist, of Civ., by H. T. Buckle, vol. ii., p. 146. 



Essay on Spain, i8i 

in the seventeenth century, when, after the impulse 
communicated to them in the preceding age by- 
Copernicus and his friends, they made in CathoUc 
Italy and France, and in Protestant Germany, Den- 
mark, and England, such giant strides. While Tycho 
Brahe, Galileo, Borelli, Torricelli, Descartes, Gas- 
sendi, Pascal, Huyghens, Kepler, Leibnitz, Boyle, 
Harvey, and Newton, were astonishing the world by 
their stupendous discoveries in the exact and the 
natural sciences, Spain, unmindful of the scientific 
movement around her, could not be drawn away 
from the regions of poetry and romance. Over the 
feeble, sickly governments of the third and fourth 
Philips, literature still shed a glory; but any one- 
sided direction of the human mind is faulty, and will 
not endure. Letters, art, and science in every nation 
will be influenced, among other things, by that na- 
tion's political institutions and economical condition. 
The pernicious effects of the overthrow of the ancient 
constitution at first concealed, amid the glories of the 
reign of Charles V., and of the earlier portion of his 
son's, became more apparent in the last years of 
Philip II., and fearfully palpable under the last 
princes of the House of Austria. 

Under the Bourbon dynasty, thanks to their more 
enlightened policy, Spain was roused from her torpor. 
Early in the eighteenth century, an intellectual move- 
ment, animated with the purest spirit, was commenced 
by Father Feyjoo — a movement which, though after- 



1 82 Remarks on Buckle s 

wards in some cases perverted, and though interrupted 
by the War of Independence, and the fury of civil 
conflict, has in our times been rapidly accelerated. 

Let us hear on this subject the honest and sensible 
observations of a traveller, who, imbued as he was 
with the principles of a false philosophy, had little 
sympathy with the religious feelings and convictions 
of the Spaniards. "Doubtless," says M. Bourgoing, 
"there are in Spain, and far more than is commonly 
thought, scientific men, who in silence cultivate the 
exact sciences — men of erudition, thoroughly versed 
in the history and the laws of their country — distin- 
guished literati and poets, remarkable for warmth 
of feeling, and a brilliant and fertile imagination. 
But according to the avowal of impartial Spaniards 
themselves, the present state of letters and of science 
in their country is far indeed from what it was in the 
age of Mendoza, Ambrosio Morales, Herrera, Saa- 
vedra, Quevedo, Garcilasso, Calderon, Lope de Vega, 
Villegas, Cervantes, Mariana, Sepulveda, and De 
Solis and others. The Spanish universities have no 
longer the same reputation as formerly. 

" Industry and population are not nearly what they 
were in the reigns of Ferdinand the Catholic, and of his 
two successors. The three last monarchs, Philip V., 
Ferdinand VI., and Charles III., have endeavoured 
to revive those ages of glory. But frequent wars, the 
disorders in the finances, and other more active 
causes, have not permitted more than feeble encour- 



Essay on Spain. 183 

agements, and a progress by no means rapid. The 
reign of Charles III. can shew men distinguished in 
the various departments of literature and of science."* 

The author then proceeds to give a short account 
of the more distinguished Spanish literati and men of 
science, from the commencement of the eighteenth 
century, down to the first years of this age, when he 
composed his work. The names of the more eminent 
have been already cited in the preceding lecture. 
The testimony of M. Bourgoing on this subject is 
corroborated by that of M. de la Borde already 
adduced, and who visited Spain in the first years 
of this century. Nor is the judgment of Sir A. AHson, 
as we have seen, less favourable to that country. 

But how very different a picture does the Spain of 
the present day exhibit ! How far superior is her 
intellectual condition to that in which Townsend and 
Bourgoing and La Borde found her sixty and seventy 
years ago ! Her intellectual progress has been nearly 
as striking as her material improvement. In despite 
of foreign and domestic warfare, and of civil convul- 
sions, — of anarchic assemblies, and of violent monar- 
chical reactions, — popular education has been widely 
extended, the universities rendered more efficient, 
the periodical press become more able, and writers of 
the highest order of excellence have succeeded to the 
men of learning and merit that adorned the eighteenth 
century. And what is far more gratifying, while the 
* Tableau de I'Espagne, vol. i., pp. 313, 314. 



1 84 Remarks on Buckle 's 

vast majority of the people have retained their faith 
in all its integrity, unbeUef has lost its hold on very 
many in the upper classes. 

Mr Buckle, in order to shew that enlightenment in 
Spain is a plant of artificial growth, that it has no 
root in the soil, and owes its existence solely to the 
fostering care of the government, passes over some 
remarkable phenomena in her ancient and her more 
recent history. For example, the writer who draws 
so dark a picture of the Spanish Court in the seven- 
teenth century, throws into the background the men 
of eminent genius who at that period adorned the 
Peninsula. But, on the other hand, as the Bourbon 
monarchs in the last century encouraged learning, as 
well as commerce and industry, he places in a more 
prominent position the men of letters that Spain then 
produced. For the same reason he wilfully, as would 
seem, closes his eyes against the rapid progress, intel- 
lectual as well as material, that within the last twenty 
years Spain has been making, because such a state of 
things clashes with his own perverse theories. But 
his gross misrepresentations on this point have been 
well exposed in the able paper in the Edinburgh 
Review^ which I have already had occasion to 
cite.* 

The drawbacks on Spanish literature and science 

* Vol. cxiv., p. 199. The Quarterly Review i^o, 222, p. 147) 
gives an equally favourable account of the revival of material 
prosperity in Spain. 



Essay on Spain. 185 

in former ages have been candidly stated in the pre- 
ceding lectures. 

V. I pass now to the influence of the Spanish 
Church on the poHtical freedom of the country. 

Mr Buckle contends that the Spaniards, though 
they early possessed the forms of freedom, never pos- 
sessed its spirit. "What makes these failures the 
more worthy of observation is/^ says he, " that the 
Spaniards did possess, at a very early period, munici- 
pal privileges and franchises, similar to those which we 
had in England, and to which our greatness is often 
ascribed. But such institutions, though they preserve 
freedom, can never create it. Spain had the form of 
liberty without its spirit ; hence the form, promising 
as it was, soon died away. In England the spirit 
preceded the form, and therefore the form was dur- 
able. . . . The fact, however, is, that in Spain 
these institutions, instead of growing out of the wants 
of the people, originated in a stroke of policy on the 
part of their rulers.''^' How supremely absurd is it 
to oppose one to the other two nations, like the 
Spaniards and the English in the Middle Ages, when 
their religious institutions were identical, their poli- 
tical constitution very similar, and the degree of intel- 
lectual culture, though the advantage was then rather 
on the side of Spain, nearly the same ! The physical 
sciences, which, according to Mr Buckle, are the 
source of all intellectual freedom, and thence of poli- 
* Hist, of Civ., vol. ii., p. 135. 



i86 Remarks 07i Buckle s 

tical liberty, were then in their childhood. From 
their contact with the Arabs, who had derived niuch 
of their knowledge from the Byzantines, the Spaniards 
were somewhat better versed in those sciences than 
the contemporary English. 

How unutterably absurd, too, to assert that a na- 
tion like the Spaniards should have for three or four 
centuries possessed, used, and enjoyed municipal 
and representative institutions, " the marks and forms 
of freedom," as Mr Buckle avows, and yet have been 
without the '^ spirit" of that freedom ! Nations are 
not machines ; they are composed of intelligent 
beings, endowed with free-will; and when they use 
institutions, value them and guard them with jealous 
care, they must needs possess and feel their spirit. 
A philosophical analysis of these institutions is a 
matter for the privileged few, and then only in a 
more advanced period of society ; but in their infancy 
nations still possess an instinctive love and admiration 
for them. How pleasant it is to turn from these ineptice 
to the pages of a sagacious historian like Prescott ! 

"Thus,'* says he, "while the inhabitants of the 
great towns in other parts of Europe were languishing 
in feudal servitude, the members of the Castilian Cor- 
porations, living under the protection of their own 
laws and magistrates in time of peace, and com- 
manded by their own officers in war, were in full 
enjoyment of all the essential eights and privileges of 
freemen^ . . . Again he says, " But with all this, 



Essay on Spain. 187 

long after similar immunities in the free cities of other 
countries, as Italy for example, had been sacrificed to 
the violence of faction, or the lust of power, those of 
the Castilian cities not only remained unimpaired, but 
seemed to acquire additional stability with age. This 
circumstance is chiefly imputable to the constancy of the 
national legislature^ which, until the voice of liberty was 
stifled by a military despotism, was ever ready to inter- 
pose its protecting arm in defence of constitutional rights r 
Again, the historian, speaking of the times when the 
rights of the people were invaded by the attacks of 
the privileged orders, or by the usurpations of the 
crown, writes as follows : " But far from being inti- 
midated by such acts, the [popular] representatives in 
Cortes were ever ready to stand forward as the intrepid 
advocates of constitutional freedom ; and the unqualified 
boldness of their language on such occasions, and the 
consequent concessions of the sovereign, are satisfac- 
tory evidence of the real extent of their power, and 
shew how cordially they must have been supported by 
public opinion,^' '^ 

Similar is the language of Robertson in the passage 
cited by the Edinburgh Review. Speaking of the early 
part of the reign of Charles V., that historian observes : 
^'But the Spaniards had already acquired ideas of their 
own liberty and independence; had formed bold and gene- 
rous sentiments concerning government^ and discovered an 

* Hist, of Isabella and Ferdinand, by Prescott. Introd., pp. 
8, 10. London, 1854. 



1 88 Remarks on Buckle s 

extent of political knowledge to which the English did 
not attain till more than a century afterwards.^^'^ 

The causes of the overthrow of the old free Consti- 
tution of Spain have been admirably traced by the 
illustrious Balmez, and it is to this overthrow we are 
mainly to ascribe the decline of the Spanish Mon- 
archy. 

" The causes of the ruin of the old free institutions 
of Spain are/' says he, ^' firsts their premature and 
immoderately extensive development ; secondly^ the 
formation of the Spanish nation out of a successive 
reunion of very heterogeneous parts, all possessing 
institutions extremely popular ; thirdly^ the establish- 
ment of the centre of power in the middle of the pro- 
vinces where these forms were most restricted, and 
where the authority of the Crown was the greatest ; 
fourthly^ the extreme abundance of wealth, the power 
and the splendour which the Spanish people saw 
everywhere around them, and which lulled them to 
sleep in the arms of prosperity ; fifthly^ the exclu- 
sively military position of the Spanish monarchs, 
whose armies were everywhere victorious, their mili- 
tary power and prestige being at their height pre- 
cisely at the critical time when the quarrel had to be 
decided/' t 

The author then proceeds with great ability to en- 

* Charles V., book iii., p. i68. 

f Balmez, European Civilization, p. 363. Eng. trans. Burns, 
1861. 



Essay on Spain, 189 

force the truth of these observations ; but my limits 
will not allow me to follow him in this discussion. 

To these causes of the subversion of the old Con- 
stitution it were well to add the jealousy of the two 
privileged orders towards the Third Estate, because 
of its extraordinary power. Again, the practice of 
frequently summoning to Cortes only the procura- 
dores of the cities, and passing by the clergy and the 
nobles, took from the latter their due share of influ- 
ence, and gave to the former an excessive preponder- 
ance. This was the more dangerous, as the deputies 
of the Third Estate represented exclusively the in- 
habitants of the cities, and not those of the country. 
" Whatever may have been the right of the nobility 
and clergy," says Prescott, ^^to attend in Cortes, their 
sanction was not deemed essential to the validity of 
legislative acts \ for their presence was not even re- 
quired in many assemblies of the nation which oc- 
curred in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. The 
extraordinary power thus committed to the Commons 
was, on the whole, unfavourable to their liberties. It 
deprived them of the sympathy and co-operation of 
the great orders of the State, whose authority alone 
could have enabled them to withstand the encroach- 
ments of arbitrary power, and who, in fact, did event- 
ually desert them in their utmost need.'^* 

Balmez, after observing that the division of Spain 

* "During the famous war of the Comunidades, under Charles 
V." — Prescotfs Hist, of Queen Isabella^ p. 9. 



IQO Remarks on Buckle s 

into so many distinct kingdoms and principalities 
was unfavourable to a compact, united resistance of 
her people to the arbitrary encroachments of the 
Crown under Charles V., goes on to say — " True, the 
Cortes of 1538 boldly gave Charles a severe lecture 
instead of the aids he demanded. But it was already 
too late; the clergy and the nobility were expelled 
froni the Cortes, and the representation of Castile 
was restricted for the future to the procuradores alone 
— that is, it was doomed to be no more than the 
shadow of what it had been, a mere instrument of the 
royal will."* The distinguished author then goes 
on to remark that even in the reign of Philip II., 
'^we must not imagine that absolute power was so 
fully and completely established as to leave not a 
vestige of ancient liberty. . . . Whatever proba- 
bilities of success they (the kings of Spain) had. in the 
vast means at their disposal, they were very careful 
not to make the attempt, [of crushing all opposition 
to their power,] but left the inhabitants of Navarre 
and the subjects of the crown of Aragon in the tran- 
quil enjoyment of their franchises, rights, and privi- 
leges.'^ t 

Balmez then shews that it was by partial, indirect 
attacks those monarchs succeeded by degrees in 
undermining the surviving liberties in Aragon, Cata- 
lonia, and Valencia. 

Under Charles V., Philip II., Philip III., and 
* Europ. Civ., p. 367. t Ibid., p. 368. 



Essay on Spain. 19 r 

Philip IV., the Cortes, now Hmited to the Third 
Estate alone, put forth a series of most energetic 
remonstrances as to abuses in various departments 
of government. 

The revenue, the taxation, the different branches of 
administration, the state of the law, the proceedings 
of the courts of justice, the interests of agriculture, 
trade, and industry, the condition of the humbler 
classes, the state of the cities, the expenses of the 
court — in fact, every department of the public ser- 
vice, came under their searching inquiries. In proof 
of this assertion, I may refer the reader to Professor 
Ranke's very interesting work, entitled the "Spanish 
Monarchy of the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Cen- 
turies.^'* Though the Cortes, mutilated as they were, 
possessed no longer legislative power, yet were their 
remonstrances frequently attended to. "I cannot 
say," says Ranke, '^ that the Cortes had now become 
useless. Representative institutions, when they have 
struck roots in a nation, evince, even in a condition 
of less independence, a vital energy that is attended 
with the most salutary effects. The Castihan Cortes 
had, indeed, no other surviving right but that of ad- 
dressing petitions, on the fulfilment whereof they 
could not insist. But this right they made use of in 
a way that it would be hard to find in any parliamen- 
tary deliberations of that age more good-will or more 

* Die Spanische Monarchic, von L. Ranke. The work has 
been translated into English. 



192 Remarks on Buckle s 

manifold political foresight, than in these acts of 
Cortes." * 

So here we see, with an evidence as clear as day, 
the very reverse of what Mr Buckle attempts to estab- 
lish. So far from possessing the mere forms of free- 
dom without its spirit, the Spaniards, on the contrary, 
preserved, even amid the decay of those forms, the 
active spirit of liberty — the spirit of energetic self- 
government — the spirit of bold remonstrance with 
power — the spirit of keen, critical investigation, that 
embraced every department of government, from the 
palace to the town-council. Mr Buckle will not pre- 
tend that the Portuguese were more free-spirited than 
the Spaniards. Yet, where does history shew a more 
magnificent rising of a people to achieve its independ- 
ence than that of the Portuguese, when in 1641 they 
overthrew the Spanish domination that had lasted 
sixty years, and restored their rightful monarch and 
their rightful constitution, which Philip II., when he 
had usurped the throne of Portugal, put down"? 
Witness, again, the valour and the energy with which 
the Catalans about the same time defended, against 
Philip IV., their ancient rights and liberties \ and 
again, when in behalf of the same object, in the year 
after the treaty of Utrecht, they contended single- 
handed against the united forces of France and of 
Castile. 

* Die Spanische Monarchic, von L. Ranke, p. ' 230. Ger- 
man edition. 



Essay on Spain. 193 

Coming now to the War of Succession, which has 
already been shortly described in the preceding pages, 
it cannot be denied that during that long and desolat- 
ing conflict — a conflict which was half civil, half 
foreign — the Castilians on one side, and the Ara- 
gonese, Catalans, and Valencians on the other, dis- 
played extraordinary courage and constancy. In this 
protracted struggle, the French pretender to the crown 
of Spain triumphed, as we have seen, over his Aus- 
trian rival ; and with the Prince of Anjou, under the 
title of Philip V., the Bourbon dynasty was seated on 
the throne of that country. With that dynasty a new 
era of financial, commercial, industrial, and, in a less 
degree, intellectual reform begins in Spain. 

To the measures adopted by the new line of mon- 
archs and by their ministers for the amelioration of 
Spain's material well-being, Mr Buckle, on the whole, 
renders full justice. But he maintains that all these 
improvements were thrown away on the Spanish 
people, because they were opposed to their inclina- 
tions and habits; and that, though the means of 
knowledge and of progress were lavishly supphed to 
them, they utterly disregarded them. I shall quote 
but one passage to that effect. Speaking of what he 
calls the Anti-theological Movement of the last cen- 
tury, he says : ^' The effects of that movement were seen 
in the Government of Spain^ but not in the people. This 
was because the government for many years was 
wielded by foreigners, or by natives imbued with a 

N 



194 Remarks on Buckle s 

foreign spirit. Hence we find that during the greater 
part of the eighteenth century the poUticians of Spain 
formed a class more isolated, and, if I may so say, 
more living on their own intellectual resources than 
the politicians of any other country during the same 
period. That this indicated a state of disease, and 
that no political improvement can produce real good, un- 
less it is desired by the 'people before being conferred on 
them, will be admitted by whoever has mastered the 
lessons which history contains. The results actually * 
produced in Spain we shall presently see. But it will 
first be advisable that I should give some further 
evidence of the extent to which the influence of the 
Church had prostrated the national intellect, and by 
discouraging all inquiry, and fettering all freedom of 
thought, had at length reduced the country to such a 
plight that the faculties of men, rusted by disuse, were 
no longer equal to fulfil the functions required from 
them, so that in every department, whether of political 
life or of speculative philosophy, or even of mechanical 
i?tdustry, it was necessary that foreigners should be called 
in to do that work which the natives had become unable 
to perform'''^ Many passages of this kind abound in 
Mr Buckle's work. 

That the Spanish nation never resisted, but gladly 

accepted, the salutary measures passed by the Bourbon 

dynasty, whether for the promotion of husbandry, 

trade, and manufactures, or the advancement of let- 

* Hist of Civ., vol. ii., pp. 89, 90. 



Essay on Spain, 195 

ters, arts, and science, must be clear to all who have 
read the preceding lectures. What they sorely dis- 
trusted, and very rightly so, was the irreligion, more 
or less avowed, of some statesmen at the Courts of 
Charles III. and of Charles IV., of a Count d'Aranda, 
a Don Pablo Olavide, prior to his conversion in the 
Reign of Terror, and of the Frenchman Cabarrus, 
and a few others. What they looked upon with sus- 
picion were the encroachments on the spiritual rights 
of the Church recommended by Cathohc statesmen, 
in other respects so estimable, as Campomanes and 
Florida Blanca. I have expressly said in my first lec- 
ture, that in the eighteenth century ^^ the elements of 
good and of evil were often strangely intermixed." 

Another cause of latent dissatisfaction on the part 
of many Spaniards with the Bourbon monarchs was 
the severe blows which Philip V. had inflicted on the 
franchises and liberties of Aragon, Catalonia, Valencia, 
and the Balearic Isles. In the seventeenth century, 
represented by Mr Buckle under such dark and odious 
traits, the Frocuradores, or the Third Estate, regularly 
met in Cortes, as we have seen, to present petitions 
and remonstrances to the Crown on public affairs. 
But in the whole course of the eighteenth century the 
voice of the Cortes was mute. It was only at the 
accession of a new sovereign to the throne, the three 
Orders were convoked to swear fealty to his person. 
The Biscayan provinces and Navarre alone retained 
their old political assemblies. 



196 Remarks on Buckle s 

But that all classes of Spaniards approved and 
warmly encouraged and supported the beneficent 
measures of the Bourbon dynasty for promoting the 
material well-being of their country, is proved by the 
active part they took in the formation and working of 
the economical societies. In these the most perfect 
equality reigned ; and M. Bourgoing tells us that in 
them an artizan or a farmer might be seen sitting by 
the side of the Archbishop of Toledo, or of the Duke of 
Medina-Celi. So far from the Spanish people remain- 
ing inert, passive spectators of Royal Reforms, which 
our sapient philosopher tells us were forced upon a 
reluctant nation, those measures of amelioration ad- 
verted to were often suggested to the Government by 
these popular associations, " They called forth, '^ says 
the French Ambassador, who so closely watched their 
proceedings, ^^ various encouragements to industry. 
Enlightened by them^ the Government put in force laws 
that had fallen into disuse '^'^ Yet, if any associations 
expressed the national opinion, it was surely these 
societies, composed of the representatives of every class. 
The first was estabhshed in the industrious province 
of Biscay; and in the year 1775 the example was 
imitated t by the capital. In the year 1804, the num- 

* Bourgoing, Tableau de I'Espagne, vol. i., p. 335. 

t Speaking of this Society at Madrid, which still subsists, and 
has gone through the vicissitudes of near a century, M. Vidal, 
in i860, writes as follows : — " Elle a compris parmi ses membres 
les hommes les plus honorables et les plus distingues du pays ; 
elle a foumi au gouvernement des renseignemens utiles et prepare 



Essay on Spain, 197 

ber of these societies throughout all Spain amounted 
to sixty-four. They were at first supported by volun- 
tary donations, till the Government, seeing their vast 
utility, added to their funds by pecuniary sub- 
sidies. In these associations, all matters relating to 
agriculture, trade, industry, and the mechanical arts 
were discussed ; valuable papers on these subjects 
were published by them ; and schools, industrial as 
well as elementary, were established out of their funds. 
So far from a few official men being the sole authors 
of the social improvements in the country, as Mr 
Buckle so frequently asserts, we know that the Bishops 
and Abbots founded in the last century not only 
churches and hospitals, but elementary and industrial 
schools, as well as colleges for a liberal education, 
and even professorships in the universities. Nay, 
more, they built bridges, and constructed roads, and 
advanced funds for various pubhc works. This fact 
is attested by all the English and French travellers of 
the last century. How can it be said that the people 
were backward in following the impulse given by the 
Government, when as soon as trade was opened with 
the American colonies, we find the Spanish merchants 
equipping vessels, and bringing back from the Indies 
rich cargoes to their mother country, and trebling and 
even quintupHng her exports and her imports % How 

de nombreuses et importantes ameliorations. Les memoires et 
les ouvrages qu'elle a publics sont pleins d'interet. Elle a fond^ 
dcs chaires d'enseignement, etc." — VEspagneen i860, p. 118. 



198 Remarks on B tickle's 

can it be said that the industrial movement was not 
spontaneous, when, to give a single example, the city 
of Valencia, which in the year 17 18 possessed but eight 
hundred looms for the silk manufacture, could shew 
in 1769 (according to the estimate of Don Antonio 
Ponz) no fewer than three thousand one hundred 
and ninety-five looms, which in the year 1787 were 
increased to five thousand?* 

The progress of agriculture in Spain during the last 
century and the present proves the activity of the 
people, as well as the enlightened care of the Govern- 
ment. The different condition, too, of husbandry in 
different provinces proves that here, as in everything 
else, success depended on the co-operation of the 
people, as well as on the action of the Government. 
If the latter had been the sole agent in the national 
prosperity, then its influence would have produced 
uniform results ; but we know the contrary to have 
been the case ; and that, in this respect, the Spanish 
provinces exhibited great diversity — a diversity to be 
ascribed not only to the differences in soil, in climate, 
and other local peculiarities, but to the force of cir- 
cumstances, as well as to the special physical, moral, 
and intellectual qualities of their respective inhabitants. 
The theory of Mr Buckle is as absurd in itself, as the 
statements on which he grounds it are false. 

The steady growth of population is another safe 
index of national well-being. Now the population of 
* See Townsend, vol. iii., pp. 154, 155. 



Essay on Spain, 199 

Spain, which had been reduced as low as seven 
milHons and a-half in 1715,* rose to twelve milHons 
in i797,t and now amounts, by the last census, to 
sixteen millions, j When we consider the ravages of 
the War of Independence, the agitations of the Revo- 
lution, and the bloody civil war that grew out of it, 
this increase of population within the last sixty years 
is most striking. 

Passing from the material to the intellectual order 
of things, the number of elementary schools founded 
by individuals, as well as by the Government, before 
and since the Revolution, and the improvements in- 
troduced into the universities, shew that here, as in 
the progress of agriculture, trade, and industry, there 
were two agents at work.§ 

Mr Buckle tells us, that in every department of 
intellectual and political life foreigners alone achieved 
anything in Spain. Were the members of the acade- 
mies of Spanish literature, and of Spanish history, 
whose labours are so highly appreciated in Europe, 
foreigners? Was the Benedictine Feyjoo, who in his 
long life so zealously combated popular prejudices 
and superstitions, who introduced the literature, phi- 

* Ticknor, Hist, of Spanish Literature, vol. iii., p. 238. 

t La Borde, t. iv., p. 25. 

% L'Espagne en i860, par Vidal, p. 18. 

§ "At the commencement of 1859, the number of children 
frequenting public and private elementary schools was one 
million one thousand nine hundred and seventy -four. " — V Es- 
pagne en i860, par M. Vidal, p. 156. 



200 Remarks on Buckle s 

losophy, and physics of the more advanced nations 
into Spain, and who sought to combine with a spirit 
of piety a taste for elegant literature and profound 
science, was he a foreigner? Was the Jesuit La 
Isla, who, by caustic wit and enlightened criticism, 
strove to reform the pulpit preaching of Spain, a 
foreigner, too % Were those eminent economists and 
political writers, a Campomanes and a Jovellanos, 
foreigners'? Were the distinguished literati of the 
eighteenth century, from Ferreras to the younger 
Moratin, foreigners'? It was in science only, and 
not in the Belles Lettres, we see foreigners associated 
with the natives of Spain. In the intellectual decline 
which two centuries ago had followed on her political 
declension, it was but natural that foreigners should 
be called in to take the lead in those departments 
where she was most deficient ; but the impulse they 
gave was responded to with zeal and energy by her 
own sons. The same phenomenon has been wit- 
nessed in other countries and at other times. If, as 
we have seen, she was ruled in the early part of the 
last century chiefly by foreign ministers, yet she after- 
wards produced (to name but the most eminent) very 
distinguished statesmen, like the Marquess La En- 
senada. Count Florida Blanca, and Jovellanos. The 
cause of the influence of foreigners in the govern- 
ment of Spain during the early part of the last cen- 
tury has been sufficiently explained in the foregoing 
Lectures. 



Essay on Spain. 201 

The last point I shall briefly touch upon is the 
Inquisition-. Though Protestant^ as well as Catholic 
writers, like Ranke, Prescott, Balmez, and Hefele, had 
clearly demonstrated the gross exaggerations, the 
glaring misstatements, and the palpable contradic- 
tions into which the historian of that tribunal, 
Llorente, had fallen, Mr Buckle has the hardihood 
to call him an accurate and honest historian. I beg 
leave to refer the reader to Professor Hefele's " Life 
and Times of Cardinal Ximenes," where he will find 
the best account of the rise, constitution, and pro- 
ceedings of the Spanish Inquisition.* 

This writer shews on what loose, uncertain data 
Llorente forms his calculations of the numbers who 
suffered capital and minor punishments from the sen- 
tences of the Inquisition. He shews how he confines 
to a city, the executions which occurred in a province, 
and to a single province those of the whole kingdom. 
He proves how he utterly disregards the circumstances 
of time and place, and of personal character, and en- 
deavours to apply to the tribunals of the Spanish 
Inquisition in all the provinces, and in all the years 
of the sixteenth century, the same uniform standard 
of penal severity.t Hence the absurd blunders and 

* See my critique of this work in the Dublin Review, October 
1852. The Rev. Canon Dalton has since given an able transla- 
tion of it, accompanied with an interesting preface. London : 
Dolman, 1859. 

f The judgment of Dr Hefele is ratified by that of two emi- 
nent Protestant historians, Prescott and Ranke. **The late 



202 Remarks on Buckle s 

gross exaggerations into which, on this point, the 
Spanish historian falls. 

Professor Hefele shews that in the Inquisition the 



secretary of the Inquisition," says Prescott, *^has made an 
elaborate computation of the number of its victims. According 
to him, thirteen thousand were publicly burned by the several 
tribunals of Castile and Aragon, and one hundred and ninety- 
one thousand four hundred and thirteen suffered other punish- 
ments between 1481, the date of the commencement of the 
modern institution, and 15 18." Llorente appears to have come 
to these appalling results by a very plausible process of calcula- 
tion, and without any design to exaggerate. Nevertheless, his 
data are exceedingly imperfect ; and he has himself, on a re- 
vision, considerably reduced, in his fourth volume, the original 
estimates in the first. I find good grounds for reducing them 
still further, i. He quotes Mariana for the fact that two thou- 
sand suffered martyrdom at Seville in 148 1, and makes this the 
basis of his calculations for the other tribunals of the kingdom. 
Marineo, a contemporary, on the other hand, states, '* that in 
the course of a few years they burned nearly two thousand 
heretics ; " thus not only diffusing this amount over a greater 
period oftime^ but embracing all the tribunals then existing in the 
country, 2. Bernaldez states, "that five-sixths of the Jews re- 
sided in the kingdom of Castile." — Prescotfs Ferdinand and 
Isabella^ p. 579. London, 1854. 

The German historian, Ranke, contradicts, though in the 
most guarded and even flattering terms, Llorente as to his asser- 
tions about the constitution of the Spanish Inquisition. *' We 
have," he says, "upon the Inquisition a celebrated book by 
Llorente ; and if, after such a predecessor, I should say any- 
thing in contradiction of his opinion, I may find my excuse in 
the fact that this well-informed author wrote in the interest of 
the Afrancesados, of the government of king Joseph. It was 
in this interest that he disputed the liberties of the Biscayan 
provinces, incontestably well-founded as they were. In the 
same interest, he looked upon the Inquisition as an usurpation 
of spiritual authority on the civil power. Yet, if I mistake not, 



Essay on Spain, 203 

prisoners were kindly treated, well fed, and well lodged ; 
that the rooms in which they were confined were spa- 
cious and airy ; and that it was only in rare cases, when 
there was danger of suicide, fetters were laid on them. 
He proves that here torture for eliciting the truth 
was applied less frequently, with more humanity, and 

the very facts he adduces prove that the Inquisition was a royal 
tribunal, armed only with spiritual weapons. 

**In \he, first place, the Inquisitors were royal functionaries. 
The king had the right to appoint and to dismiss them." Here 
the historian gives proofs of this statement. 

''''Secondly. All profits arising from the confiscations of this 
tribunal escheated to the king." Here also various proofs of 
this assertion are brought forward. 

** Thirdly, By this tribunal, the civil power was completely 

consolidated For it was not only on open heresy it had 

to decide. Already Ferdinand the Catholic, convinced of the 
advantages it presented, had much enlarged the sphere of its 
jurisdiction. Under Philip II., the Inquisition interfered in 
niatters of commerce and of art, of taxes and of the navy. 
What matter was beyond the competence of this judicature, 
when to sell horses or ammunition to the French was declared 
an heretical offence ? " — Die Spanische Monarchie, pp. 242, 244. 
So far Professor Ranke. Hence we see Frederick Schlegel had 
reason to say, ''that the Spanish Inquisition was far more a 
political than an ecclesiastical institute." — Philosophy of His- 
tory, Eng. Trans., by J. B. Robertson, Esq., p. 396. Seventh 
Edition. London: Bohn, 1859. A similar observation I have 
read in Guizot, but cannot recall to mind the work where it is 
to be found. The intelligent Protestant American traveller, 
Mr Wailis, observes, "That the Inquisition was, in fact, a 
political engine quite as much as a religious Institution, there is 
now, I believe, no doubt ; and much of the odium which it has 
thrown upon the Church will, one of these days, I am sure, be 
transferred to the State, which deserves it." — Wailis'' s Spain, 
p. 271. 



204 Remarks on Buckle s 

under greater restrictions than in the secular tri- 
bunals of the time ; that the heads of accusation were 
always communicated to the culprits \ and that, 
though the names of their accusers were not made 
known to them, every possible precaution was taken 
to protect the accused against the machinations of 
hatred, envy, or revenge. 

Dr Hefele then remarks, that the jurisdiction of 
the Holy Office was not confined to heresy and un- 
belief, but extended to the grosser transgressions of 
the moral law, such as blasphemy, sacrilege, sorcery, 
religious frauds, polygamy, nameless crimes, and other 
most heinous offences. Insults and outrages against 
its officers, and even smuggling, came under. its cog- 
nizance. Hence the various punishments awarded 
by this tribunal, whether they affected life, freedom, 
or property, were not, as is so often falsely repre- 
sented, visited only on the crime of heresy, or of 
relapse into Judaism and Mohammedanism. 

The new Inquisition, very different from the old 
one, that had been established against the secret sect 
of the Albigenses, and which had become extinct, 
was, at the urgent entreaty of Ferdinand and Isabella, 
reluctantly founded by Pope Sixtus IV. in the year 
1 48 1. Professor Hefele shews how, from the very 
origin of that tribunal, the Holy See sought to miti- 
gate its severity; how its sentences were frequently 
modified or quashed by the sovereign Pontiff; and 
how many, condemned to imprisonment, or heavy 



Essay on Spain, 205 

fines, or even handed over to the secular arm for 
capital punishment, were, on an appeal to Rome, 
sentenced to some trifling penance, and then absolved, 
and restored to the communion of the Church, and 
to the enjoyment of civil rights. Not unfrequently 
did the Spanish Inquisition repudiate the interven- 
tion of the Holy See — resist its mandates of mercy — 
strive to enforce, in despite of higher authority, its 
own decrees ; while the Government forbade appeals 
to Rome, or banished for ever from its territory those 
who had been there absolved from all ecclesiastical 
censures. 

"Moreover," says Balmez, "it is not to be sup- 
posed that the appeals admitted at Rome, and by 
virtue of which the lot of the accused was improved, 
were founded on errors of form, and on injustice com- 
mitted in the application of the law. If the accused 
had recourse to Rome, it was not always to demand 
reparation for an injustice, but because they were sure 
of finding indulgence. We have a proof of this in 
the considerable number of Spanish refugees con- 
victed at Rome of having fallen into Judaism. Two 
hundred and fifty of them were found at one time j 
yet there was not one capital execution. Some pen- 
ances were imposed on them ; and when they were 
absolved, they were free to return home without the 
least mark of ignominy. This took place at Rome 
in 1498."^ 

* European Civilization, Eng. Trans., p. 189. 



2o6 Remarks on Buckle'' s 

Again, the illustrious writer says, " In truth, what 
is there in common between Catholicity and the ex- 
cessive severity employed in this place or that, in the 
extraordinary situation in which many rival races were 
placed in the presence of danger, which menaced 
one of them, or in the interest which kings had in 
maintaining the tranquillity of their states, and secur- 
ing their conquests from all danger % I will not enter 
into a detailed examination of the conduct of the 
Spanish Inquisition with respect to Judaizing Chris- 
tians ; and I am far from thinking that the rigour 
which it employed against them was preferable to the 
mildness recommended and displayed by the Popes. 
What I wish to shew here is, that rigour was the 
result of extraordinary circumstances, — the effect of 
the national spirit, and of the severity of customs in 
Europe at that time. Catholicity cannot be re- 
proached with excesses committed for these different 
reasons. Still more, if we pay attention to the spirit 
which prevails in all the instructions of the Popes 
relating to the Inquisition ; if we observe their mani- 
fest inclination to range themselves on the side of 
mildness, and to suppress the marks of ignominy with 
which the guilty, as well as their families, were stig- 
matized ; we have a right to suppose that, if the Popes 
had not feared to displease the kings too much, and 
to excite divisions which might have been fatal, their 
measures would have been carried still further.^' * 
* European Civilization, Eng. Trans., pp. 189, 190. 



Essay on Spain. 207 

I pass now to the Moriscoes. 

Mr Buckle, who uses such language of unmeasured 
vituperation towards the king, the statesmen, and the 
churchmen engaged in the deliberations that pre- 
ceded the expulsion of the Moriscoes, and towards 
all the modern Spanish writers who point out the 
provocations given by that people, and the formid- 
able dangers which, by their conspiracies, beset the 
monarchy, ought to have calmly weighed the reasons 
for this act, as assigned in the royal decree of Philip 
III., — reasons which, if they do not justify, certainly 
extenuate the rigorous measure. " There can be 
no doubt,'' says Mr Churton,* '^ that there was con- 
tinual danger from the Moriscoes to the internal 
peace of the realm ; and they were often in secret 
correspondence with their piratical kinsmen in Bar- 
bary." This author has some other pertinent obser- 
vations on this subject, which I regret my limits will 
not allow me to cite. 

Forty-two years before Philip III. issued the decree 
of expulsion against the Moriscoes, his father, Philip 
II. had been obliged to prohibit his subjects, under 
severe penalties, from abetting or encouraging in any 
way the hostile enterprises of Turks, Jews, and 
Moors out of the realm. In his edict, dated Madrid, 
loth December 1567, the king declares that '^he had 
been informed that, in despite of all his precautions, 
the Turks, Moors, and Corsairs had committed, and 
* Gongora, vol. i., p. 45. 



2o8 Remarks on Buckle s 

were committing, on the coasts of his kingdom divers 
robberies, misdeeds, injuries, and seizures of Chris- 
tians ; and that, moreover, these evils had, it was 
said, been committed with ease and security, by 
favour of the intercourse and understanding which the 
Corsairs had, and continued to have, with some in- 
habit afits of the country, who gave them intellige7tce, 
guided them^ received them, hid them, a7id lent them 
favour aiid assistance; some of them having gone away 
with the Moors and Turks, and carried away with them 
their wives, their children, their goods. Christian cap- 
tives, and the things which they had been able to ravish 
from the Christians P 

The edict then proceeds to pass various penalties 
for such offences. 

Now let us hear Philip III. alleging the reasons for 
so severe a measure as the expulsion of this people 
from his dominions. 

After stating that numerous edicts of mercy had 
been granted in favour of the Moriscoes; that no 
means nor diligence had been spared to instruct them 
in the Catholic faith \ but that, in despite of all these 
efforts, they had been guilty of outrages against the 
Christian religion, and had proved themselves apos- 
tates from the faith, and traitors to their sovereign ; 
the king proceeds to state the guilty practices which, 
he says, forced from him the edict of expulsion. 

"Although," says His Majesty, "it would have 
been allowable to proceed against the Moriscoes with 



Essay on Spain. 209 

the rigour which their offences deserve, nevertheless, 
desiring to bring them back by means of mildness 
and mercy, I ordained in the city and kingdom of 
Valencia an assembly of the patriarchs, and other 
prelates and wise men, in order to ascertain what 
could be resolved upon and settled; but having 
learned that at the very time they were engaged in 
remedying the evil, the Moriscoes of the said king- 
dom of Valencia and of our other domains, continued 
to urge forward their pernicious projects : Knowing, 
moreover, from correct and certain intelligence, that 
they had sent to treat at Constantinople with the 
Turks, and at Morocco with the king, Muley Fidon, 
in order that there might be sent into the kingdom of 
Spain the greatest number of forces possible to aid 
and assist them ; being sure that there would be 
found in our kingdom more than one hundred and 
fifty thousand men, as good Moors as those from the 
coasts of Barbary, all ready to assist them with their 
lives and fortunes, whereby they were persuaded of 
the facility of the enterprize : Knowing that the same 
treaties have been attempted with heretics and other 
princes our enemies : ^^ the king, from these considera- 
tions, and from his obligation to maintain the holy 
Catholic faith in his kingdoms, and to preserve their 
security and peace, with the counsel of learned men, 
decrees the expulsion of the Moriscoes. 

Such is the purport of the famous edict of 1609.* 

* See Balmez, Europ. Civ., p. 453, note. Eng. trans. 

O 



2IO Remarks on Buckle s 

It is easy for those who cannot, or rather will not 
reahze the position and the feelings of Spanish Chris- 
tians at this period, haunted as they were by the dark 
reminiscences of the first Moorish invasion, and of 
the fearful spiritual and temporal calamities which it 
entailed — the subjugation of their country — the ruin 
of their state — the ruin of their property — the ruin of 
their families — and, worse than all, the overthrow of 
their altars ; — it is easy for those who will not bear in 
mind the horrors of eight centuries of warfare — the 
formidable power of the Turks at the commencement 
of the seventeenth century — -the comparative weak- 
ness of Spain at that period — a weakness aggravated 
by the presence of a secret domestic foe ; — -it is easy 
for such men to indulge in violent declamations 
against the intolerance of the Spanish government 
and of the Spanish people. 

"The Moors and the Moriscoes," says Balmez, 
" no less occupied the attention of the Inquisition at 
that time \ and all that has been said on the subject 
of the Jews may be applied to them with some modi- 
fications. They wxre also an abhorred race — a race 
which had been contended with for eight centuries. 
When they retained their religion, the Moors inspired 
hatred; when they abjured it, mistrust; the Popes 
interested themselves in their favour also in a peculiar 
manner. We ought to remark a bull issued in 1530, 
which is expressed in language quite evangelical ; it 
is there said, that the ignorance of these nations is 



Essay on Spain. 211 

one of the principal causes of their faults and errors \ 
the first thing to be done to render their conversion 
soHd and sincere was, according to the recommenda- 
tion contained in this bull, to endeavour to enlighten 
their minds with sound doctrine."* 

I shall now conclude these remarks with two ex- 
amples of the spirit of candour, and the spirit of 
tolerance, that characterized Mr Buckle. 

" In Spain,'' says he, " the clergy are stronger than 
in any other country ; therefore in Spain they display 
this tendency more fearlessly. A good instance of 
this may be seen in a work lately published by the 
Bishop of Barcelona, in which a violent attack upon 
all physical and philosophical knowledge is concluded 
in the following terms : — t 'I do not intend,' says 
he, ^ to blame any CathoHcs for adhering to the new 

* European Civilization, p. 190. 

f Mr Buckle cites the original of the passage, but does not 
translate it. It is as follows; *'No intento recriminar ^ nin- 
gun Catolico de los que se asocian al nuevo systema de filosofar 
y de extender indefinidamente el imperio de esta ciencia, pero 
deseo que fijen toda su atencion en los puntos que no hare sino 
indicar. Frzmero, Que las escuelas de Holanda, Alemania, 
Inglaterra y Francia desafectas al Catolicismo, han iniciado y 
promovido con el mayor empefio ciertas discusiones filosoficas, 
presentandolas como un triunfo de la razon sobre la religion, de 
la filosofla sobre la teologla, del materialismo sobre el espiritual- 
ismo. Segtcndo, Que sus maximas no son en gran parte, mas 
que reproduciones 6 nuevas evoluciones de errores mil veces 
refutados y condenados por la sana filosofia y por la Iglesia ; 
bajo cujo concepto no tienen por que felicitarse en razon de su 
progreso, sino mas bien avergonzarse por su retroceso." — Costa 
y Borras, Iglesia en Espana, p. 150. Barcelona, 1857. 



212 Remarks on Buckle s 

system of philosophy, and for extending indefinitely 
the empire of that science ; but I desire that they fix 
all their attention on the points, which I shall do 
nothing more than indicate. In the first place, That 
the schools of Holland, Germany, England, and 
France hostile to Catholicism have initiated and pro- 
moted with the greatest zeal certain philosophic in- 
quiries^ by presenting them as a triumph of reason 
over religion, of philosophy over theology, of mate- 
rialism over spiritualism. Secondly^ That the maxims 
of this philosophy are nothing more than reproduc- 
tions, or new evolutions of errors, a thousand times 
refuted and condemned by sound philosophy and by 
the Church. Its low conceptions should make its 
followers not congratulate themselves on their pro- 
gress, but rather be ashamed of their retrogressions.' " 
Had Mr Buckle translated the passage, which he 
gives in the original, all his readers would have per- 
ceived that it told against himself, and that his charge 
against the Bishop of Barcelona was utterly ground- 
less. So far '^from making a violent attack upon all 
physical and philosophical knowledge," the prelate 
warns Catholics against only certain philosophical 
opinions set on foot by schools hostile to the Catholic 
Church; opinions which, he says, "have been a 
thousand times refuted by sound philosophy^ as well as 
condemned by the Church." With quite as much 
justice Mr Buckle might have represented the Edin- 
burgh Review^ because it repudiates his monstrous 



Essay on Spain. 213 

philosophy, as an enemy to all physical and philo- 
sophical knowledge. 

Another instance of signal bad faith in this writer 
is his description of the present state of Spain. One 
so conversant in Spanish literature must have known 
full well the extraordinary progress which, within the 
last twenty years, since the termination of the civil 
war, Spain has made, not only in material prosperity, 
but in mental cultivation also. The extraordinary 
growth of material prosperity has been proved by the 
already cited work of M. Vidal, as well as by the 
essay in the Quarterly Review^ to which reference has 
before been made. On the present state of intel- 
lectual culture in Spain, an interesting little volume, 
published this year at Paris, entitled, "Etudes Litte- 
raires sur TEspagne Contemporaine," par M. Antoine 
de Latour, throws considerable light. The intellec- 
tual movement, inaugurated by Balmez and Donoso 
Cortes, is there perpetuated, and is mostly informed 
with a true Catholic spirit. The most brilliant orna- 
ments of the Spanish literature of the day are the 
learned and elegant historians. La Fuente and Ca- 
vanilles ; the able literary critic and historian, Ama- 
dor de Rios ; and the romancers, Antonio de Trueba 
and Ayala, besides the renowned Fernan Caballero. 

And now as to the spirit of tolerance exhibited by 
Mr Buckle, the following passage, containing, besides, 
a gross misstatement of facts, may serve as a speci- 
men. Speaking of the Jesuits, he says, " That once 



214 Remarks on Buckle s 

useful but now troublesome body was during the 
eighteenth century what it is in the nineteenth 
— the obstinate enemy of progress and of tolera- 
tion. The rulers of Spain, observing that it opposed 
all their schemes of reform, resolved to get rid of an 
obstacle which met them at every turn. In France 
the Jesuits had just been treated as a public nuisance, 
and suppressed at a blow, and without difficulty. The 
advisers of Charles III. saw no reason why so salu- 
tary a measure should not be imitated in their coun- 
try, and in 1767 they, following the example which 
had been set by the French in 1764, abolished this 
great mainstay of the Church. ^^ Then after describ- 
ing the unanimous demand of the people of Madrid, 
loudly expressed before the king, Charles III. him- 
self, for the restoration of this religious order, the 
author indignantly exclaims, ^' What can you do with 
a nation like this % " Then he goes on to upbraid the 
Spanish nation with continuing to bestow marks of 
increasing affection on ^' that cruel and persecuting 
Churchy stained as it is with every sort of crimed * I 
question whether a more audacious and blasphemous 
outrage on the Catholic Church was ever put forth by 
the Jacobin clubs of 1793, than is contained in the 
words underlined. 

Firsts It is utterly untrue that the Jesuits were 
opposed to political reforms in Spain. The Jesuit 
confessor of Ferdinand VI., Padre Ravago, was the 
* Hist, of Civ., vol. ii., pp. 139, 140. 



Essay on Spain, 215 

friend of the Marquis la Ensenada, the great re- 
forming minister."^ Secondly, the Jesuits, like all 
other good Catholics, naturally looked with great 
distrust on an infidel minister like D'Aranda; nor 
could some of the opinions of Campomanes himself, 
tainted as he was with regalism, find favour in their 
eyes. 

Mr Buckle resembled his masters, the French En- 
cyclopaedists, in his honeyed professions of toleration, 
and in his practical intolerance. If the Jesuits, be- 
cause they oppose certain favourite projects, are to 
be abated as a nuisance, why should the episcopate 
and the inferior clergy, that approved and defended 
them in France and in Spain, meet with a better fate % 
Nay, why should the whole Catholic Church, which 
this author stigmatizes with even greater severity than 
he does the Society of Jesus, be entitled to tolera- 
tion? The opprobrious language heaped on that 
venerable parent of all piety, and all virtue, and all 
happiness, and all civiHzation — the revered object of 
the enthusiastic love of so many millions in all the 
ages of redemption — this opprobrious language, 
" that she is stained with every sort of crime," is a 
call upon all governments and peoples to put her 
down. The English infidels, if they had the power, 
would necessarily, and by virtue of their prin- 
ciples, display the same fierce intolerance, the same 

* See Coxe's Bourbon Kings of Spain^ vol. iii. On the fall 
ot that minister, he interceded in his favour. — Ibid,^ p. i68. 



2 1 6 Remarks on Buckle s 

fanatical tyranny that was exercised seventy years 
ago by their French cousins, the sons of the Ency- 
clopaedists. 

Mr Buckle's work is only one among many signs 
of the extraordinary boldness and energy which this 
party has recently evinced. And what lover of his 
country can contemplate those signs without dismay 
and trembling ! What lover of his country can con- 
template with indifference the spiritual desolation, 
and the social havoc and confusion that must attend 
the triumph of irreligion ! * We should, indeed, despair 
of our own dear England if, while such dark, tem- 
pestuous clouds are overhanging a part of her horizon, 
there were not bright gleams of sunshine in an oppo- 
site quarter! The storm of persecution would, in- 
deed, first burst on the Catholic Church; but those 
respectable Protestant communions, the Church of 
England and the Kirk of Scotland, that have pre- 
served so many fragments of Gospel truth and Gospel 



* It may be objected, that the German Rationalism has not 
been attended with the same social calamities as the French In- 
fidelity of the eighteenth century. To this I reply, that in cer- 
tain times, and in certain places, evil may be of slower growth 
than in others. Secondly, That Protestant Germany is united to 
a living body — a body which, for the last forty years, has been 
growing in moral strength and in intellectual power, Thirdfyy 
That in Germany, in the year 1848, the bloody and anarchic 
scenes of 1792 were begun, but that the fatal prelude was 
checked only by the noble attitude of the Catholic Bavarians, 
Tyrolese, and Croats, aided by the loyal armies of Austria and 
Prussia. 



Essay on Spain. 217 

morality, would, in their turn, be overwhelmed by the 
sweeping of the whirlwind. 

Even those who, alas ! are indifferent to the reali- 
ties of an unseen world, ought to respect and cherish 
a Divine Institution, like Christianity, that so strenu- 
ously inculcates virtue, checks the commission of 
crime, upholds justice, inspires brotherly love, main- 
tains social order, guarantees the rights of property, 
protects the operations of trade, and encourages every 
useful and liberal pursuit. 

It is sad to see such a culpable abuse of great 
talents and acquirements as the work of Mr Buckle 
exhibits ! May he, before he was summoned to the 
bar of Divine justice, have repented of the errors of 
his course ! 



LECTURE I. 

LIFE, WRITINGS, AND TIMES OF M. DE CHATEAU- 
BRIAND. 

Ladies and Gentlemen, 
T PURPOSE this evening to draw your attention to 
the Hfe and principal writings of an eminent 
French writer and statesman, as well as to the coun- 
try and the times in which he played so important a 
part Though I had not the honour of M. de Cha- 
teaubriand^s personal acquaintance, yet was I intimate 
with some of his earlier and later friends, who have 
furnished me with various particulars respecting him. 
It is therefore with a peculiar interest I approach 
the subject I have undertaken to speak of 

My chief authorities, however, for the facts brought 
forward in these Lectures are as follows : — 

1. The Autobiography of Chateaubriand himself. 6 vols. 

2. The Panegyric pronounced on him by his Successor in the 
Academy, the Duke de Noailles. 

3. The Notice of him in the *'Nouvelle Biographic univer- 
selle." Paris, 1856. 

4. The Biographical Sketch in the " Dictionnaire de Conver- 
sation," par M. de Carne. Paris, 1834. 

5. Articles in Le Correspondant for 1861-2 upon his Life. 



His Early Years, 219 

6. The Review of his Memoirs in the Revue des deux Mondes. 

7. M. Villemain's recent work, entitled, *' Life and Writings 
of M. de Chateaubriand." 2 vols. Paris, 1863. 

Frangois-Rene, Viscount de Chateaubriand, was 
born at St Malo, in Brittany, in the year 1768. He 
was one of ten children, and was of a noble and 
ancient family, dating from the tenth century. Diana 
de Chateaubriand is said to have played too con- 
spicuous a part at the court of Francis I. In the 
very interesting picture which, in his posthumous 
memoirs, Chateaubriand has traced of his family 
and of his early years, he describes his father, the 
Count de Chateaubriand, as a nobleman of high hon- 
our and integrity, but far too stern in the treatment of 
his children. His mother, on the other hand, was a 
woman of the most affectionate heart, and of the 
gentlest manners. His sisters, and especially Lucile, 
whose mind and character were in singular unison 
with his own, joined the mother in consoling him 
under the harsh treatment he sometimes experienced 
from his father. I learned from a Breton lady a fact, 
not stated by Chateaubriand in his autobiography — 
namely, that up to his fifteenth year he used to be 
called by his mother, la bete de la famille^ the block- 
head of the family. This fact must not surprise us ; 
for vigorous, and especially versatile minds, are gene- 
rally of slow development — one faculty stifling, as it 
were, the other in its growth. Where, as in the case 
of the great Pascal, the contrary is the case, there 



2 20 M. de Chateaubriand. 

either genius does not reach its full maturity, or life 
is abruptly terminated. 

The young Chateaubriand pursued his studies first 
at the college of D61, and then at that of Rennes ; 
and, at the instigation of his mother, turned his 
thoughts for some time towards the ecclesiastical 
state. This project, which was more suggested than 
spontaneous, he soon abandoned, and now passed 
two years at the patrimonial castle of Combourg, near 
Dinan. This old feudal castle I visited in my youth ; 
but the Revolution had then long shorn it of the 
beautiful woods where Chateaubriand used to wander, 
where he felt the first promptings of the Muse, where 
he had the anticipations of his long, chequered career, 
where he traced the first rude outlines of those crea- 
tions that were to shed immortality on his name. 

At this period of his life he gave full rein to his 
imagination, abandoned study, and led an idle, dreamy 
existence, building, as we say, castles in the air, or as 
the French term them, chateaux d'Espagne. This 
state of feeling, which in Chateaubriand was soon 
carried to the most morbid and dangerous excess, is 
well worthy of analysis ; for its roots are good, and 
denote and prove our immortal destinies. Fallen as 
we are from our once high estate, we feel the lowli- 
ness of our present condition, — we sigh for an immor- 
tal home, — and even in this life we seek for the ideal 
in the affections, in poetry, in art, in philosophy, in 
government, in all the relations of life. This dreamy 



His Early Years, 221 

disposition is most potent in the men of the poeti- 
cal temperament. Alas ! when, at the age which our 
author had now arrived at, they have to choose a 
profession for themselves, how arduous is the task ! 
What a cruel conflict then ensues between the outer 
world and their inner feelings — between the claims of 
family and the duties of life on the one hand, and the 
high aspirings of imagination on the other ! This is 
the crisis which those sons of fancy have to go 
through; but which religion alone can enable them 
happily and successfully to go through ! Imagination 
is, indeed, among the most splendid faculties — it is 
the parent of inspiration, not only in poetry and in 
art, but to a great extent in philosophy and science 
also. But as much at least, perhaps more than any 
other faculty, it requires the most vigilant control. 
This control, however, it was precisely which in 
France, at the period I am speaking of, was so much 
wanting. The false philosophy of the eighteenth 
century had, even among believing Catholics, un- 
hinged the feelings, and relaxed the moral ties. It 
created a moral miasma, which even the most health- 
ful could not entirely escape from. 

Then the perverted eloquence of Rousseau threw 
an enchantment over vice and error, corrupted the 
feelings, led the imagination astray, inspired a disgust 
for the social duties, a morbid misanthropy, a con- 
tempt for the institutions and the arts of civihzed life, 
and an absurd admiration for the savage state. 



222 M, de Chateaubriand. 

Those crude, unsound, diseased fantasies I have 
spoken of, and to which the exact fulfilment of re- 
ligious duties, accompanied with vigorous mental 
and bodily exercise, forms the best corrective, found, 
unfortunately, a dangerous nurture in the reigning 
philosophy. From an act of despair he records of 
himself, I should infer that the spirit of this philosophy, 
if not its positive teaching, was at this early period 
working in the mind of the young Chateaubriand. It 
is certain that, religiously as he had been brought up, 
he fell some time after into unbelief; and his power- 
ful mind remained for several years trammelled in the 
meshes of irreligious sophistry, till misfortune, under 
the grace of God, served to extricate it. 

So, then, our young enthusiast, feeding his fancy 
on a thousand chimeras, loved to wander alone in the 
woods and on the moors of Brittany, telling his 
sorrows to the moaning winds, or to the sympathetic 
waves of the angry ocean. With the fair creatures of 
his teeming fancy, he would at times mount on the 
wings of the wind, and visit the temples of Athens, the 
sacred walls of Jerusalem, the pyramids of Memphis, 
the ruins of Carthage, and the voluptuous shores of 
Baiae, or speeding his flight over the vast Atlantic, 
would wander in the solitudes of the New World. 
What a singular forecast did his fancy take of all the 
wanderings of his future life ! 

He has himself described how incensed was his 
father at the sort of strange, unreal existence he was 



His Early Years. 223 

leading. He would walk a long distance to escape 
that father's scowling glance ; and when he joined the 
family repasts, he would sit abashed and taciturn in 
the presence of his parents. On one occasion, while 
on a visit with some relatives at St Malo, he received 
a sudden summons to return to the Chateau of Com- 
bourg. He arrived at supper-time. His father was 
unusually stern; his mother was sad and dejected; 
Lucile and his other sisters frequently wept. Surely 
some disaster was impending. The next morning at 
ten o'clock the servant brought a message, that he 
should meet his father in his private apartment. On 
his entering into the room his father, the count, thus 
addressed him : ^' Monsieur le Chevaher, it is high 
time that you should give up your follies. Your 
brother has obtained for you an ensigncy in the regi- 
ment of Navarre. You are now to start for Rennes, 
and thence for Cambrai. Here are a hundred louis 
d'ors ; you must husband them. I am old and infirm, 
and have not long to live. Conduct yourself as an 
upright man, and never dishonour the name you bear.'' 
His father then embraced him, and Chateaubriand 
says, he felt that stern and furrowed visage press 
against his own with tenderness. This was the last 
paternal embrace he was ever destined to receive.* 

The Count de Chateaubriand immediately con- 
ducted his son to a carriage which was waiting at the 
door. His mother and sisters stood weeping on the 
* M^m. d'Outre-tombe, p. 128. 



2 24 M. de Chateaubriand. 

outside steps. The youth could only wave them a 
farewell with his hand. So was the young Chateau- 
briand now fairly launched on the stormy ocean of 
the world. 

Alas ! poor dreamy youthful enthusiast ! what sad 
realities he is soon to wake to ! That father, whose 
affection, hid under a rugged exterior, he had so keenly 
felt in that last adieu, was soon to be carried to the 
tomb. That tomb itself was ere long to be rifled by 
the hand of revolutionary violence, and its ashes 
scattered to the winds. The paternal domain was to 
be dilapidated; his mothet and sisters were to be 
doomed to penury and imprisonment; his brothers 
and nearest kinsmen to perish under the guillotine, 
the victims of honour and fidelity ; royalty itself, in 
the person of the virtuous monarch to whom he had 
just engaged his sword, to be immolated on the 
scaffold; the monarchy of fourteen hundred years 
to be levelled with the dust — the churches to be 
plundered and profaned — their ministers imprisoned 
and murdered ; and (a thing unknown in the whole 
history of mankind !) religion herself to be outlawed 
and proscribed, and in the person of the most de- 
graded of the sex, impiety itself exalted on the altars 
of the Most High! And he, the moody, fantastic 
youth, now burning with the love of glory, was to 
become a wanderer on land and sea, was to cull in 
the solitudes of America the seeds of immortal fame, 
was to shed over her wild savannas a halo of poetic 



Presentation at Court, 225 

splendour, and was to people her forests with the 
bright creations of his fancy. Then, listening to the 
voice of honour and of duty, he flies back to the de- 
fence of religion, monarchy, and freedom, fights the 
battles of his king, and then, wounded and destitute, 
finds a refuge on the English soil. There he drags 
on eight long years in exile, and want, and sorrow, 
with nothing but the consciousness of undying genius 
to sustain him, and the healing balm of returning faith 
to soothe him. 

Such was the severe ordeal through which Chateau- 
briand had to pass before he reached the heights of 
fame; such the dread probation Divine Providence 
reserved for him, who was to inaugurate in France the 
great Catholic re-action of the nineteenth century. 
But I must not anticipate the course of events. 
The young Chateaubriand, on joining his regiment, 
is fixed at Paris, where he resides during the last years 
of the reign of Louis XVI. Soon after his arrival at 
the capital, he was presented to the king, and saw the 
sunset glory of that Court of Versailles which was 
still the most splendid in the world. Like all admitted 
to the levee, he had to wait for the passage of the 
queen from the royal chapel to the hall of audience ; 
and then, as he paid his respects to her majesty, she 
graciously smiled, and passed on in all that light of 
grace and beauty, which had twelve years before 
enchanted our great Burke. He was then invited to 
the royal hunt; but though he had been cautioned 



226 M, de Chateaubriand. 

not to be in at the death before the king, (as that was 
displeasing to his majesty,) he unfortunately was 
unable to manage his restive horse, and was thus 
brought in at the death before the king had come up. 
This was an image of Chateaubriand's political career ; 
for though a great defender of royalty, he never, either 
in the good or the bad sense of the term, could play 
the part of a courtier. ^^ Your horse has held out 
well," exclaimed the king on coming up. These were 
the first and the last words Chateaubriand ever heard 
from this unfortunate monarch, who six years after- 
wards met with his tragic fate. 

No young nobleman had ever more brilliant pros- 
pects of military advancement, than the subject ot 
this memoir at the period I am speaking of His 
married sister, the Countess de Farcy, moved in the 
highest circles, and his eldest brother had married 
the granddaughter of the late distinguished minister, 
Malesherbes. But, instead of pushing his fortune at 
court, Chateaubriand, to the great disappointment of 
his family, never appeared again at the levees of 
Versailles. His manners were at this time shy and 
awkward ; and so, after repeated remonstrances, his 
brother declined to introduce him into the high society 
of the capital. In the meantime he was diligently 
prosecuting the study of Greek literature, and culti- 
vating the acquaintance of literary men, and among 
others, that of the eminent critics, M. de la Harpe 
and M. de Fontanes. Our young Heutenant was 



Breaking out of the Revolution. 227 

seeking not to advance his promotion in the army, 
but to obtain the patronage of men of letters for the 
productions of his infant Muse. Through such patron- 
age he got inserted in the Almanack des Muses, in the 
year 1790, some Hnes of pastoral poetry. This first 
literary effusion appeared with his initials. 

Meanwhile the great Revolution, which had burst 
out in the year preceding, was pursuing its wild, 
destructive career. The first scenes of this fearful 
drama Chateaubriand has described in his posthum- 
ous memoirs with his usual graphic skill. Having 
already, on a former occasion, treated of the moral 
and political causes of that social catastrophe, I shall 
not again tread over that ground ; but when I come 
to describe the Restoration and its religious and 
political parties, I shall recur to the subject, in as 
far at least as it may serve to elucidate that period. 

As one anxious for the reform of abuses, as a 
Breton indisposed towards the court for its encroach- 
ments on the constitutional rights of his province, 
and as a young believer in the delusive promises of 
the sophists of the eighteenth century, Chateaubriand 
entertained sanguine hopes as to the favourable issue 
of this Revolution. But the excesses and crimes 
which stained it at the outset soon disgusted his 
generous soul. The soldiers of his regiment having 
like the rest revolted, he was soon disengaged from 
the public service, and thought to employ his leisure 
in travelling. He is possessed with the idea of ex- 



2 28 M. de Chateaubriand. 

amining the polar seas and coasts of America, and of 
discovering the north-west passage from the Atlantic to 
the Pacific Ocean — a discovery which, after so many- 
unsuccessful and even disastrous attempts, it was 
reserved for a great Irish navigator of our own day 
to accomplish. 

Chateaubriand submitted his project to the mature 
judgment of M. de Malesherbes. This eminent 
magistrate and scholar approved of his undertaking, 
and declared that, were he younger, he would join in 
it ; for, disgusted as he was with the state of public 
affairs in France, he would, if his years permitted it, 
willingly leave the country. He added, that he would 
recommend the scheme to the support of the govern- 
ment. Hereupon the subject of this memoir bids 
adieu to his friends and relatives in Paris, proceeds to 
Brittany, takes a last look of the old family chateau of 
Combourg, where his father was no more ; and, after 
an affectionate farewell to his venerable mother and to 
his sisters, embarks on an ocean less tempestuous 
than the land he was leaving, and proceeds to the wild 
solitudes of the New World, whose inhabitants he found 
less savage than the impious and bloody men that were 
so soon to plague and to pollute his own country. 

On his arrival at Baltimore, Chateaubriand pro- 
ceeds to Philadelphia, and thence to Washington, 
where he pays his first visit to General Washington, 
to whom the Marquis de Rouairie, who had served in 
the American war, had given him letters of introduc- 



Travels in America, 229 

tion. The illustrious general, of whom he has given 
an interesting account in his memoirs, received him 
most courteously; and when Chateaubriand explained 
the object of his visit to America, he pointed out the 
vast difficulties of the undertaking, and strove to dis- 
suade him from its prosecution. Hereupon Chateau- 
briand replied, " It is surely less difficult to discover 
the north-west passage, than to found a new state." 
^^Well said, well said, my young man,'^ replied 
Washington, tapping him on the shoulder. 

Chateaubriand now embarked for New York, and 
thence proceeded to Albany, whence he pursued his 
route to the Falls of Niagara. 

The spectacle of the United States, then in the first 
spring-tide of their prosperity, — their agriculture, com- 
merce, industry, the manners and customs reigning in 
the different cities — the political institutions, and re- 
ligious doctrines and practices of their inhabitants, did 
not escape the notice of our young traveller. And 
we shall see how useful to the future pubhcist were the 
observations and the experiences he gathered from 
these early travels. But the young poet was panting 
to behold the virgin forests, and the sea-like rivers, 
and the tremendous cataracts of the New World. 
The youthful disciple of Rousseau was more anxious 
to contemplate the manners of savage Hfe than the 
arts and institutions of civilized nations. 

With a Dutch guide, whom he procured at Albany, 
he threaded his way through the American forests 



230 M. de Chateaubriand. 

up to the lakes of Canada. There his boyish dreams 
seem reaHsed. There, far from the abodes of men, 
he can contemplate that wild, primeval Nature, as she 
came fresh from the hands of God. There, in the 
mysterious harmonies of those solitudes, the Deity 
Himself seems to speak to him, and awaken the 
religious feelings of earlier days. Sometimes he 
thought to hear that voice in the gentle whisper of 
the topmost leaves of the trees, sometimes in the 
organ-peal that resounded from the depths of the 
forest. In those wildernesses there often reigns an 
unbroken, death-like stillness ; and then suddenly, 
when the traveller stirs a step, a thousand voices seem 
to rush forth from the bosom of the solitude, as if the 
genii of the woods were forbidding his advance. And 
what an endless variety of tints to charm the eye ! 
How strange and fantastic are the forms of those 
primeval trees 1 Most commonly they rise up with 
a long, lank, tapering stem, and silvery bark, putting 
forth boughs only at their top. Sometimes they 
spread out like a fan; sometimes they are rolled up 
like a ball; at times they mount up in a conical 
shape ; at other times they assume a pyramidal form. 
Then what shall I say of the Falls of Niagara? 
Does nature present a more sublime spectacle % The 
River Niagara issues from Lake Erie, and empties 
itself into the Lake Ontario. The river, when it 
leaves the former lake, descends in a rapid slope for 
eighteen miles j and, as it approaches the falls, darts 



Travels in A merica. 231 

with the silent swiftness of an arrow. Dividing itself 
into two branches, it then, in a perpendicular of 
one hundred and forty-four feet, and in the frighful 
breadth of half a mile, rolls down its mountain-volume 
of waters into the abyss, overclouds the heavens with 
its giant spray, and shakes the rocks around with its 
tremendous crash; while the fearful reverberation is 
carried from solitude to solitude, from forest to forest, 
to the distance of sixty English miles. 

This glorious spectacle, so well calculated to exalt 
the imagination of the poet, was never effaced from 
the mind of him whose life I am tracing. 

Now with his guide he threads the thick-tangled 
forest ; now he sails in his canoe over the Canadian 
lakes. There in their transparent mirror he beholds, 
to a depth of thirty or forty feet, the granite masses 
of submarine mountains ; or admires the beautiful 
shores, sometimes curtained round with a thick forest, 
sometimes through the thinly-scattered trees, present- 
ing lovely vistas to the eye. At last he hails in the 
remote distance the Hyperborean Mountains, that 
look on the Polar Sea. 

Then, apparently entranced by American scenery, 
the young poet forgets the north-west passage, turns 
his course southwards, and descends the Mississippi. 
On the western side of that mighty river he beholds 
those wonderful prairies, vast, interminable as the 
ocean, and where the blade of grass serves, like a 
compass, to direct the traveller's steps. Naught in 



232 M. de Chateaubriand, 

that sea of verdure can arrest the eye, save the troops 
of wild buffaloes. On the opposite or eastern bank 
of the Mississippi he beholds, on the other hand, all 
the rich variety of vegetable and animal life. If on 
one side a dead silence and monotony reign, all on 
the other is full of stir and variety. He now reaches 
the Floridas, which he has made the scene of his 
early, beautiful romances, "Atala," and "Rene," and 
the "Natchez." So he has come to the land of 
the firefly, and the humming-bird, and is on the verge 
of the tropics. 

Here I can sympathize more warmly with Chateau- 
briand ; for if it were not given to me to behold the 
majestic forests, and mountains, and cataracts of the 
American mainland, I yet passed, though born in 
England, my early childhood not far from the Flo- 
ridas, in one of those lovely islands* which, like a 
necklace of pearls, the hand of nature has set on the 
bosom of the Mexican Gulf And though I have 
never revisited the scenes of infancy, yet through the 
long vista of years they rise up before the eye of 
memory. Well I remember the brilliant plumage of 
the birds — the luxuriant foliage of the woods— the 
gaudy-coloured flowers — the trembling leaves of the 
tapering bamboo — the cocoa-nut-tree, that loves the sea- 
shore — the tall, wide-branching cashew-nut-tree, that 
overshadowed my paternal roof— the orange-leaved 
myrtle, that blossomed right before the veranda — the 
* The Island of Grenada. 



Impressions of America, 233 

fireflies, that, like falling stars, flashed through the dark 
— and the transparent brilliancy of those magical nights. 

Chateaubriand had now been wandering for a year 
through the forests and the savannas of America, 
when it chanced that one evening, while in the 
Floridas, he came to the farm of an Anglo-American. 
He demanded hospitality, and it was accorded to 
him. While the hostess was preparing his supper, he 
took up an EngHsh newspaper, and there read in 
large letters, ^'Flight of the King of France." There 
he saw the full account of the flight of the unfortu- 
nate Louis XVI., and of his arrest at Varennes. The 
journal related, also, the progress of the emigration, 
and the gathering at Coblenz of almost all the French 
oflicers under the command of the Prince de Conde. 

Chateaubriand, deeply moved by these sad ac- 
counts, felt that honour called him to the standard 
of his king ; and that was a call which his generous 
soul could not but respond to. He resolved imme- 
diately to return to Europe, and join his brethren 
in arms. This was in 1792. 

The year he had passed in America was indeed 
memorable, for it exercised the greatest influence on 
his future life ; and this is the reason why I have so 
long dwelt on it. America was, indeed, the seed-plat 
of his genius. In the solitudes of the New World 
his poetic imagination was expanded and invigorated. 
There, too, those religious feelings gradually revived 
which, seconded by the dying prayer of a mother, 



2 34 ^* ^^ Chateaubriand. 

and by an affectionate letter from a sister, were des- 
tined to bring him back to the faith of his fathers. 
There, also, he laid the scene of his early, beautiful 
romances, and composed portions of them. Nor 
was it only his imagination that the spectacle of a 
grand, primeval nature enkindled; but the close 
attention he bestowed on vegetable and animal or- 
ganization enlarged his understanding also. He has 
justly called himself the last historian of the American 
Indians ; and, indeed, as a distinguished colleague of 
my own once said in this place, that Sir Walter Scott 
had appeared at the right time to depict the old 
Celtic manners and customs of the Scotch High- 
landers, which, through emigration and other causes, 
were fast fading away; the same remark will hold 
good of Chateaubriand in respect to the red men of 
the New World. Seventy years ago their population 
was considerably greater than at present, and their 
manners, customs, laws, and religious and political 
institutions were in a state of comparative vigour. 
The happy influence of the old French Catholic 
missions could then, also, be better appreciated than 
at the present day. Indian life has, indeed, receded 
before the advances of European refinement; and 
where, in 1791, our author had to thread his way 
through the trackless forest, flourishing plantations, 
hamlets, -towns, and even cities, have since sprung up. 
But under the influence of those missions the savage, 
who has been so often corrupted and degraded by his 



His Return and His Marriage, 235 

contact with the colonists^ would have been made a 
virtuous, happy, and civihzed being. 

The journal written at this time by Chateaubriand, 
replete as it is with observations on a variety of 
topics, displays the amazing vigour and versatility of 
his youthful mind. 

He now proceeded to Baltimore, and there em- 
barked. After a stormy passage of eighteen days, in 
which he was nearly shipwrecked between the Isles 
of Guernsey and Origny, he landed safely at Havre. 

Shortly after his return to France, Chateaubriand's 
mother, foreseeing the extreme probability of her son's 
emigrating, was anxious that he should marry. She 
introduced him, therefore, to a great friend of his 
sister Lucile, a lady of ancient family, and of very 
good fortune. She possessed, moreover, personal 
attractions, and a cultivated mind, and was a woman 
of remarkable piety and virtue. It is to be lamented, 
however, that, with all her excellences, her character 
was not congenial to her husband's, and that she 
never possessed over him the influence which her 
talents and virtues justly entitled her to. Through 
all the vicissitudes of Chateaubriand's chequered ex- 
istence she proved a most devoted wife. He appre- 
ciated her virtues, and in his memoirs has paid, as 
we shall see, a most touching tribute to her memory. 
The marriage was celebrated at St Malo's in 1792, 
and shortly afterwards Chateaubriand and his consort 
repaired to Paris. It was pecuharly unfortunate that, 



236 M. de Chateaubriand. 

just on the eve of their emigration from France, it 
was found that the first troubles of the Revolution 
had very considerably reduced the lady's fortune. 

In the month of July 1792, Chateaubriand, in com- 
pany with his brother, leaves France for the royal 
camp at Coblenz. There he enlists in one of the 
Breton companies. He carries in his knapsack, to- 
gether with some other provisions and ammunition, 
the first pages of his romance of ^' Atala." His corps 
advances with the Austrian army : he takes part in 
the siege of Thionville, and is there severely wounded. 
The French Royalists are obliged to retreat with the 
Austrian army ; and Chateaubriand, with some pe- 
cuniary aid from his relatives, contrives to drag his 
way on to Ostend. Thence he embarks for the Isle 
of Jersey, where he lands sick and destitute. His 
uncle, De Bedee and family, who had been driven 
thither by the Revolution, bestow on him during his 
illness the most affectionate care. On his feeling 
himself somewhat better and stronger, he embarks 
for London, where for eight long years he ekes out a 
most precarious subsistence, often struggling with 
sickness, want, and privations of every kind. It was 
by giving lessons in the French language, and by 
translating for a bookseller, he was enabled to pro- 
cure a livelihood. But such at times was his desti- 
tution, that he was unable on some occasions to pur- 
chase even writing materials for the purpose of com- 
position, and has even gone days together without a 



His Sufferings in the Emigration, 237 

meal. Yet the goodness of Providence tempered his 
afflictions, and at the seasonable moment sent him 
succour from quarters the most unexpected. Counsel 
and consolation, too, did he receive from his com- 
panions in misfortune — his exiled fellow-countrymen. 

In the year 1797, he published in London his first 
work, entitled, " Essai historique sur les Revolutions 
anciennes et modernes dans leurs Rapports avec la 
Revolution Frangaise.^' This book was written under 
the inspiration of those irreligious sentiments which 
he had imbibed in Paris, and had not yet shaken off. 
This essay I have never read ; but able and Catholic 
critics have declared that, amid many false and dan- 
gerous views, and incoherent ideas, the author evinced 
an independence of spirit with regard to the infidel 
writers of the last century — a striving after impar- 
tiality, and a vigour of thought and diction which, 
when his spirit should take a better direction, augured 
well for his success. This book was in direct oppo- 
sition to all the principles, religious and political, of 
the French emigration. 

About this time our author received a letter from 
his sister Julie, the Countess de Farcy, informing 
him of the death of his venerable mother, teUing him 
of her deep sorrow at his abandonment of his reli- 
gion, and conveying her dying request that he should 
return to the holy Catholic faith, in which he had been 
brought up. '^ On reading," he says, " the dying ad- 
monitions of my venerated parent, I wept, and be- 



238 M. de Chateaubriand. 

came again a Christian." Holy, precious tears, in- 
deed, the fountains of so many graces to himself and 
to countless souls ! 

With the zeal of a neophyte, he resolved to defend 
the faith which, while it brought balm to his wounded 
heart, gave light to his understanding ; and he con- 
ceived the plan of his great work, the "Genius of 
Christianity." 

Yet it was not only from penury, and sickness, and 
the absence from home, from friends, and from kins- 
folk, the poor exile had to suffer ; but family afflictions 
also of the most grievous kind came to overpower him. 
The venerable magistrate Malesherbes, at the age of 
seventy-three, — his daughter, Madame de Rosambo, — 
his granddaughter and her husband, Chateaubriand's 
eldest brother, were all immolated together on the 
same day, at the same hour, and on the same scaffold. 
This dreadful intelligence was conveyed to Chateau- 
briand by the public newspapers. " I learned later," 
he tells us in his memoirs, " the fate experienced by 
other members of my family. My aged and incom- 
parable mother was put into a cart, and brought from 
the depths of Brittany to the jails of Paris, to share 
the fate of the son, whom she had so tenderly loved. 
My wife and my sister Lucile awaited in the dun- 
geons of Rennes their sentence of execution. There 
was even a question of shutting them up in the family 
chateau of Combourg, which had been transformed 
into a state-fortress ; and, innocent as they were, they 



The Counsels of Fontanes. 239 

were accused of the crime of my emigration. What 
were our troubles in a foreign land compared with 
those of our countrymen who had remained in France ] 
And yet, what a misfortune, amid the sufferings of 
exile, to know that that very exile had been made the 
pretext for the persecution of our kindred/' "^ 

In the year 1797, the proscriptions of the Directory 
forced M. de Fontanes, whom, prior to the Revolu- 
tion, Chateaubriand had known in Paris, to emigrate 
to England. He soon found out his old acquaint- 
ance j and this elegant critic, and exquisite lyric poet 
henceforward proved an invaluable friend to Chateau- 
briand, and became his literary Mentor. When the 
latter read to him portions of his romance of " Atala," 
he expressed his warm approval, and gave him great 
encouragement. Still stronger was his admiration for 
those chapters of the "Genie du Christianisme,'' 
which its author laid before him. M. de Fontanes 
said to his friend, "Travaillez, travaillez, mon ami, 
devenez illustre; vous le pouvez ; Tavenir est a vous." 
" Work, work, my friend; become illustrious ; you can 
become so ; the future is yours." 

Towards the close of his exile, Chateaubriand be- 
came acquainted with some of the leading personages 
of the emigration ; and as the essay had given him 
some sort of literary reputation, his society was now 
sought after. He became acquainted with M. De- 
lille, the elegant translator of VirgiFs Georgics, and 
* M6m. d'Outre-tombe, vol. ii. 



240 M. de Chateaubriand. 

the author of some excellent poems. The saintly- 
Abbe Carron, whom the same M. Delille had de- 
scribed ^' as the living providence of all exiled French- 
men," — 

*' Des Francais exiles la providence vivante," — 

and who, in his " Memoirs of the Revolution," had 
ranked Chateaubriand's sister Julie, the Countess de 
Farcy, among its Christian heroines and confessors, 
was also added to the number of our author's ac- 
quaintances. At the Catholic college of Kensington, 
founded chiefly through the instrumentality of our 
great Burke, for the education of the sons of the 
emigrant French nobility, he had the happiness of 
being introduced to that illustrious statesman, and of 
witnessing the affectionate interest he took in the 
education of the children. 

It was his good fortune, too, to assist at those great 
parhamentary debates on the Revolution of his own 
country, — debates of such intense interest to himself, 
and of such vast moment to all Europe, and in which 
the three greatest political orators of modern times — 
Burke, Pitt, and Fox — took a prominent part. Often 
did he catch the eye of Mr Pitt, he tells us, as he 
was walking through St James's Park. The great 
minister little dreamed that the poor emigrant gentle- 
man on whom he cast a glance was one day destined 
to be an illustrious writer, to be the representative of 
his sovereign at the British Court, and to hold in his 
own country the same high office as himself. 



His Return to France. 241 

I need not say that, during his abode in England, 
Chateaubriand paid great attention to English litera- 
ture. How serviceable was that study to himself and 
to his country, I shall have occasion to shew when I 
come to speak of his works. 

M. de Fontanes, on leaving England for Germany, 
promised his friend that he would, on the first oppor- 
tunity which offered, promote his interests. That 
opportunity soon came. By the Revolution of the 
1 8th Brumaire year eight, or the 9th November 1799, 
the Directory was overturned, and Napoleon made 
First Consul. M. de Fontanes returned to France, 
and as he had interest with the Buonaparte family, he 
immediately obtained the favour, that Chateaubriand's 
name should be struck off the list of proscribed emi- 
grants. Chateaubriand still thought it more prudent 
to re-enter France under the disguise of a Swiss 
name, as M. Lassagne. He accordingly quits the 
land of banishment, where he had endured such in- 
tense suffering, but where, also, he had received 
pecuniary succour from the literary fund for foreign- 
ers, and where, too, he had recovered the priceless 
gift of faith. He reaches Paris in May 1800. He 
presents his passport to the police, and is ordered to 
shew himself every month at the municipality. Fie 
soon after boldly assumes his own name j for the First 
Consul had now thrown open the gates of France to 
all emigrants desirous of returning, and by a just and 

Q 



242 M. de Chateaubriand. 

wise policy facilitated the re-acquisition of their con- 
fiscated property. 

What a change France presented to the eye of our 
author can better be imagined than described. Dur- 
ing the whole route from Calais to Paris, the spec- 
tacle of ruined chateaux, dilapidated churches, de- 
molished monasteries and convents, women with 
haggard faces labouring in the fields in room of their 
husbands and brothers engaged in foreign warfare, 
met his eye. And when he entered within the walls 
of the capital, what havoc, what desolation on every 
side ! What sacrilegious spoliations ! what smoking 
ruins ! what bloody reminiscences ! No church or 
convent bell was to be heard within the godless city. 
To find an adequate representation of this state of 
things, I must refer you to the posthumous memoirs. 

Chateaubriand now took lodgings in a street in the 
Faubourg St Germain, and was immediately visited 
by M. de Fontanes, M. Joubert, and other friends. 
Madame de Chateaubriand, and his sister Lucile, 
after a long and cruel separation, now rejoined him. 
Through the mediation of his friends, he made an 
arrangement with a Paris bookseller, whereby the 
latter agreed to make certain pecuniary advances to 
him, till he should complete his great work, the 
^^ Genie du Christianisme.^' Meantime M. de Fon- 
tanes founded his hterary journal, Le Mercure^ and 
solicited the co-operation of his friend. They were 
joined by distinguished critics, like M. Joubert, M. 



His Romance of Atala, 243 

Dussault, and the Vicomte de Bonaldj whose first 
work, "La The'orie du Pouvoir civil et religieux," 
published in 1797, had already marked him out as 
one of the most illustrious metaphysicians and pub- 
licists of his age. Of this great writer and thinker, 
the glory of religion and of letters, I shall have occa- 
sion to speak later. 

It was in the Mercure^ in 1801, Chateaubriand 
first published his romance, entitled "Atala ; or. The 
Loves of Two Savages in the Desert.^^ This romance 
is a beautiful wild-flower which the author had 
brought with him from the woods of America. It is 
a vivid dehneation of Indian manners, and of the 
magnificent scenery of the New World. It is the first 
blossoming of spring-tide sentiment. The struggle 
between passion and duty is most powerfully por- 
trayed. And if, like our great dramatic poet, Cha- 
teaubriand began his career with describing the 
transports and the anguish of love, yet the wild wail 
of despair which pervades the "Romeo and Juliet" 
gives gradually place in "Atala'^ to the hymn of 
divine resignation and hope. 

The character of the missionary priest, the Pere 
Aubry, who soothes the last hours of Atala, dispels 
her doubts, and converts her despair into religious 
hope and joy, while he pours balm into the heart of 
her surviving lover, and imparts an instruction that 
ultimately leads him to the Christian faith, — this 
character, I say, is exquisitely drawn. Nowhere can 



244 "^- de Chateaubriand. 

a more attractive picture be found of sacerdotal zeal, 
piety, mildness, enlightenment, and love. Religion 
was nobly avenged, when she could point to this 
character as a faithful representative of the many holy 
ministers of God whom France in her frenzy had 
slain or proscribed. 

The success of ^^Atala" was prodigious. It ran 
through multiplied editions in France, and was re- 
printed and translated in most European countries. 
It established the fame of its author, and made the 
world eager for the publication of his ^^ Genie du 
Christianisme." 

Another romance, called ^^Rene,'' composed by 
him at this time, but which did not see the light till 
1807, was originally destined, like ^' Atala," to be an 
episode of his great work. " Rene " was designed to 
portray that malady of the soul which, as we have 
seen, had to a great extent preyed on the early years 
of Chateaubriand. It is, in fact, a skilful anatomy of 
a morbid affection and of a distempered imagination. 
The subject on which the tale turns, though treated 
with tact and delicacy, is too revolting for poetry or 
for fiction of any kind. Though poetical justice- is 
upheld, since the being who has fostered in idea a 
guilty passion expiates in the seclusion and the peni- 
tence of a convent culpable imaginings; yet the 
whole story leaves a most painful impression on the 
mind. The author tells us himself, that could he 
have foreseen the abuse which has been made of 



His Romance of Rene. 245 

" Rene," and the monstrous imitations which it has 
led to, he never would have written it.* He meant 
to describe not a normal and healthful, but a passing 
and diseased condition of the soul. But all that 
need have been said on the subject is contained in 
the beautiful chapter, entitled, "A certain Vagueness 
of the Passions," in the '^ Genie du Christianisme." 
This vagueness of the passions is the result of the 
premature growth of feelings and aifections without a 
definite object; it is the recoil of a distempered soul 
upon itself, and the consequent void and weariness 
produced by desires unsatisfied, and by an aimless 
existence. 

^'Rene," the merits of which, I think, have been 
overrated, perhaps suggested to Lord Byron, together 
with Gothe's " Faust," the conception of his powerful 
drama, or rather poem, of '' Manfred." But the mis- 
anthropy of ''Manfred" — his weariness and disgust 
of life — can be accounted for by his impiety. Nor 
does the British bard confine himself to a psychological 

*■ On the moral tendency of ^^Rene," the judgments pro- 
nounced are either too lenient or too severe. I have in the 
text endeavoured to avoid either extreme. First, As the tale 
was written in the first fervour of the author's conversion, and 
was designed by him to be appended to his " Genie du Chris- 
tianisme," it is clear that he had no bad intention in composing 
it. Secondly, The tale is, I think, calculated more to disorder 
the imagination, than to inflame the senses. Lastly, The author 
himself regretted its publication ; and, for my part, I can only 
repeat what I have said in the text, that it is much to be 
lamented that the work was ever given to the world. 



246 M, de Chateaubriand, 

analysis of distempered feelings ; but represents his 
hero as thirsting for forbidden science, entering into a 
league with the spirits of darkness, holding converse 
with supernatural beings, and feasting his eyes on 
the grandeur of Alpine scenery. There too, as in 
the French tale, a guilty passion, like a dark, distant 
cloud, overhangs, if I may so speak, the horizon of 
the drama. The diction in " Rene," as well as in 
^'Atala,'' is exquisite — free, flexible, graceful, and 
harmonious. 

It was in a country-house, in the neighbourhood of 
Paris, belonging to his kind friend, the Marchioness 
de Beaumont, and to which she had invited him, and 
his wife, and sister, Chateaubriand put the last hand 
to his great work, the " Genie du Christianisme.'^ This 
was one of the happiest periods of his life ; for, in 
a retired spot in the midst of beautiful woods and 
meadows, and frequently entertained with the society 
of his literary friends, M. de Fontanes, M. Joubert, 
and M. de Bonald, he was enjoying, with a sort of 
tremulous hope, the anticipations of a great renown. 
The " Genie du Christianisme '^ had been recast three 
times. It at length saw the day in May 1802. 

Of its success you may judge by the fact, that a 
work of so serious a nature, and extending to four 
volumes octavo, passed in France alone through six 
editions in one year, not including the many reprints 
and translations in foreign parts. The pent-up feel- 
ings of Catholic France, so long outraged, and 



His ''Genie du Chris tianisme.^' 247 

wounded' and crushed by the mockeries of Voltaire, 
the sophisms of Rousseau, the wild atheistic ravings 
of Diderot, the bloody orgies of the Convention, here 
found the long-sought utterance. Minds distracted 
and desolated by scepticism, here found light. 
Hearts withered up by penury, by sorrow, by bereave- 
ments of every kind, (and what family-hearth in 
France was not then covered with mourning '?) found 
here a divine balm of consolation. The young as- 
piring fancy, disabused of the illusions of a false 
philosophy, here saw opened before it a new ideal 
world of endless beauty. It was celestial music after 
the visions of an appalling dream ; it was the hymn 
of thanksgiving which the shipwrecked mariner in- 
tones on the sea-shore ; it was the first glimmering of 
morn on the mountain-top, after the long tempestuous 
night ! 

The " Genie du Christianisme " was a work of uni- 
versal sympathy. Every class of readers, from the 
bishop and the grave magistrate, to the young lady of 
cultivated mind, was equally attracted by a book 
which based the evidences of religion not only on 
the voice of reason, and the testimonies of universal 
tradition, but on the aspirings of imagination, the 
intimations of feeling, the marvels of external nature, 
the realities of life, the avowal of enemies. 

For the eighty years which had followed on the 
death of the illustrious Massillon, the Church of 
France, as if exhausted by the great men she had 



248 M. de Chateaubriand, 

brought forth in the preceding age, could shew no 
men of genius either among her clerical or lay chil- 
dren. Wit, imagination, eloquence, originality of 
thought — genius, in a word, were on the side of her 
anti-Christian foes. Learning, and solidity, and 
acuteness of reasoning, with the single exception of 
the witty Abbe Guenee, were all her defenders dis- 
played. How, then, must not Catholic France 
rejoice to behold her cause defended by a layman, 
who to great and varied learning, clearness of state- 
ment, and cogency of reasoning, united such bril- 
liancy of fancy, such depth of sensibility, such charms 
of eloquence. 

There is but another religious work, written about 
eighteen years later, by a countryman of Chateau- 
briand's, and indeed a genius in some respects 
greater than himself, which could at all vie in the 
popularity obtained by the " Gdnie du Christianisme." 

In that work our author first proves the great 
doctrines of primitive revelation, the existence of 
God, the spirituahty and the immortality of the soul, 
and a state of future rewards and punishments. He 
dwells especially on the wonders of creation, as shew- 
ing the power, the wisdom, and the goodness of the 
Infinite Maker. And here personal research, as well 
as the works of professed naturalists, supplied him 
with many forcible arguments and happy illustrations. 
Then come under consideration the evidences of the 
Christian dispensation. The minute fulfilment of 



His ^' Gtnie du Chris tianismer 249 

prophecy, the overpowering evidence of miracles, 
the unapproachable character of our Divine Lord, 
the superhuman zeal and fortitude of the apostles 
and the martyrs, the miraculous propagation of the 
Gospel, in despite of every obstacle which man and 
hell could oppose, the beauty of the Christian morality 
and the incomparable depth and sublimity of the 
sacred writings are here set forth. The indestructible- 
ness of the CathoHc Church, her unity, her perpetuity, 
her universality, her sanctity are there examined and 
proved. Her dogmas, their close, mutual connexion, 
their eminent conformity with the analogies of reason, 
and the aspirations of the human heart, are next 
pointed out. Afterwards the whole sacramental 
system of the Church, her worship, her ceremonial, 
her devotional practices, are considered and vindi- 
cated. 

The aesthetical influences of the Catholic religion, 
as compared with those of Paganism, form another 
and v^ry original portion of the ^' Genie du Christi- 
anisme.^' 

The action of the Christian religion, and of the 
Cathohc Church more especially, on poetry, on 
eloquence, philosophy, history, and the fine arts, 
forms the subject of many ingenious and eloquent 
dissertations. The organization of the Cathohc 
Hierarchy, the monastic orders, missions, foreign 
and domestic, then engage the author's attention. 

The work concludes with a general review of the 



250 M, de Chatemtbriand. 

manifold blessings — domestic, social, and political — 
which the Catholic Church has conferred on mankind. 

Such is a rapid analysis of this beautiful book, 
in which, without following the precise arrangement 
of the author, I have stated its subject-matter. 

The infidel party, then so powerful and numerous 
in France, were infuriated at the appearance of this 
work. One of their leaders, the Abbe Morellet, 
declared that it was not destined to live beyond a few 
months. Their journals sought in every way to decry 
its merits. But Catholic opinion was unanimous in 
its favour. Bishops, priests, literati, nobles, loudly 
commended it. Many a congratulatory sonnet was 
addressed to its author by fair hands ; many a garland 
of flowers, woven by delicate fingers, was showered 
on the poet, who had now become the idol of his 
country. It was a triumph too intoxicating for genius. 
The good old cure of Combourg, when told that 
his former pupil was the author of the "Genie du 
Christianisme," replied, '^ Not possible, not possible ! 
What ! you tell me, that that little idle urchin, whom 
I taught the catechism, has written this beautiful 
book ! No, no ; you are trifling with me.^' When 
convinced of the truth, the good old cur^ from the 
pulpit often quoted to his parishioners, while his face 
streamed with tears, long passages out of the work of 
his former pupil. 

Contemporaneously with the great work that 
brought so many minds and hearts back to Christi- 



His First Interview with Napoleon, 251 

anity, the First Consul had reopened the long-closed 
portals of the Temple ; and, by a concordat with the 
Holy See, had solemnly restored in France the public 
exercise of the Catholic faith. The Sovereign Pon- 
tiff had, by a great act of spiritual power, made a 
new circumscription of diocesses, and, confirming the 
nominations of Napoleon, had instituted some of the 
old prelates, and some new ones, to the several sees. 
It was a great and auspicious day for France ! 

After the adoption of this concordat by the legis- 
lative body in 1802, Lucien Buonaparte, then Minister 
of the Home Department, gave a grand entertain- 
ment to his brother, the First Consul, and among 
other guests, invited M. de Chateaubriand. Though 
the lattter had never been presented to Napoleon, 
he recognised him immediately, and directed his 
steps towards him. As the First Consul advanced, 
Chateaubriand strove to conceal himself in the throng. 
But as the former raised his voice, and exclaimed, 
" M. de Chateaubriand," the latter was of course 
obliged to advance, and conversation ensued between 
the two. With admirable tact. Napoleon offered 
our author no compHments on the great work which 
was then exciting so much sensation in France, but 
spoke of the countries, Syria and Egypt, from which 
he had just returned. He then went on to say, " I 
have often been struck, while in Egypt, with the prac- 
tice of the sheiks of turning their heads at sunrise 
towards the east, and offering up their prayers to the 



252 M, de Chateaubriand. 

Eternal." Then alluding to the insane theory of Du- 
puis, that Christianity was a mere astronomical system, 
and that the twelve apostles represented the twelve 
signs of the zodiac, the First Consul, in a strain of fine 
irony, proceeded to say, '^ The ideologists wished to 
make the Christian religion, forsooth, a mere system 
of astronomy. So with all their hatred of her, they 
were obliged to make her a religion of the spheres ! 
Even, according to their own shewing, she would 
still be something grand ! " These remarkable words, 
coupled with those two splendid passages on the 
divinity of our Lord, addressed by Napoleon to his 
generals, and cited by the Pere Lacordaire and by M. 
Nicholas, the distinguished apologist, prove, I think, 
that the faith was never utterly extinct in the breast 
of this remarkable man. 

The impression which, on this occasion, the First 
Consul made on the mind of Chateaubriand, he has 
himself recorded in his memoirs. " His smile," he says, 
^^ was winning and beautiful ; his eye admirable, espe- 
cially by the manner in which it was set within his 
eyebrows. He had, as yet, nothing of the charlatan 
in his look; nothing theatrical and affected."* It is 
curious to compare this description of Napoleon with 
the one given about the same period by the illustrious 
German publicist, Gorres, who, twelve years later, 
proved a more formidable literary adversary of Na- 
poleon than even Chateaubriand. From his wonder- 
* Mem., vol. ii., p. 246. 



His Mission to Rome. 253 

ful success in raising the Germans to throw off the 
yoke of French domination, he was styled by that 
emperor, " a fifth European power/^ After the revo- 
lution of November 1799, Gorres, then a young man, 
was one of a deputation from the Rhenish province, 
sent to complain to the First Consul of the abuses in 
the French administration of that country. Writing 
to a friend, Gorres thus describes Napoleon. " I have 
just seen,^^ says he, ^Hhe First Consul. He has a 
staring bull's eye, and a zigzag walk, like that of a 
beast of prey. His aspect makes me augur ill for the 
peace of Europe." The two descriptions are, how- 
ever, perfectly reconcilable, if we consider them to 
represent different moods of the same personage. 

Napoleon now appointed his uncle. Cardinal 
Fesch, ambassador to the Holy See, and offered 
Chateaubriand the secretaryship to that embassy. 
After some hesitation he, at the urgent advice of his 
friends, accepted the offer. The place, in every 
point of view, was well suited to his tastes and feel- 
ings. He proceeded to Rome with Madame de 
Chateaubriand; and there they enjoyed the society 
of their friend, the Marchioness de Beaumont, who 
had repaired to that capital for her health. From 
Rome M. de Chateaubriand wrote to M. de Fontanes 
those beautiful letters on Italy, which are among the 
most charming productions of his pen. 

After some time, from causes which he has not, I 
think, satisfactorily explained in his memoirs, he dis- 



254 ^' d^ Chateaubriand, 

agreed with Cardinal Fesch, abruptly tendered the 
resignation of his place, and returned to France. 

I fear that in this instance, also, he evinced that 
want of pliancy of temper, which was ever so fatal to 
his permanent success in life. 

Napoleon, though displeased with his conduct on 
this occasion, yet, much to his honour, nominated him 
French charge d'affaires in the Swiss Catholic canton 
of La Vallais. The magistrates of that canton publicly 
recorded their gratification at this appointment, and 
wrote to Chateaubriand to say how honoured they 
would feel to receive within the walls of their chief 
town — Sion — the representative of France in the 
person of the illustrious author of the ^' Genie du 
Christianisme." 

While M. de Chateaubriand was making prepara- 
tions for his departure for Switzerland, he heard one 
evening a street-crier calling out, "Sentence and 
military execution of Louis-Antoine-Henri de Bour- 
bon, Due d'Enghien." A friend immediately arrived, 
and confirmed the fatal intelligence, and shewed him 
the journal containing it. That very evening he ad- 
dressed a spirited letter to M. de Talleyrand, the 
Minister for Foreign Afiairs, tendering the resignation 
of his new diplomatic appointment, and declaring 
that, after the sad occurrence of that day, it was im- 
possible for him any longer to serve under the Im- 
perial government. His friends for several weeks 
apprehended that he would be arrested; but owing 



Execution of the Duke d'Enghien. 255 

to the influence of M. de Fontanes with Napoleon's 
sister, Madame Bajocchi, he was not molested. 

The judicial murder of this fine, gallant young 
prince, the last descendant of the illustrious Conde, 
seized under the most frivolous pretexts on a neutral 
territory, hastily tried by a military tribunal, and sen- 
tenced and executed within twenty-four hours after 
his arrival at Paris, is, according to the confession of 
Napoleon's most devoted partisans, one of the great- 
est stains on his memory. It was with this crime the 
Imperial regime was inaugurated. And this crying 
violation of all the laws of justice and international 
right was but the natural prelude to the reign of 
violence and tyranny that now ensued. What a con- 
trast does that Imperial regime form with the Consul- 
ate ! The First Consul returning from that expedition 
to Egypt, so fruitful in its results to science, puts 
down anarchy with a vigorous hand, throws open 
the temples of religion, recalls the exiled clergy and 
nobility to their native land, concludes a concordat 
with the Holy See, endeavours to conciliate the 
Catholics and the Royahsts, and lays the foundations 
of a new jurisprudence. Then compare that state of 
things with the one that succeeded it. Enmities 
between different parties revived — the old mon- 
archical party, so powerful in the western and the 
southern provinces, and still (in despite of sweeping 
confiscations) numbering in its ranks the largest 
landed proprietors, for ever alienated from the Im- 



256 M. de Chateaubriand. 

perial dynasty — bureaucratic centralization, one of 
the worst abuses of the hundred years preceding 
1789, aggravated with, treble rigour — a vexatious 
police espionage invading the sanctuary of home, 
and cramping personal freedom — exceptional mihtary 
tribunals and military executions — an insatiable thirst 
of conquest, unparalleled since the times of the Sara- 
cen caliphs — the families of the people decimated by 
the conscription — the independence and liberties of 
nations trampled under foot — an unholy crusade, as 
in the case of Spain and Portugal, carried on against 
religion and her ministers, and the most cherished 
institutions and rights of nations — an empress di- 
vorced — the venerable Head of the Church robbed 
of his dominions, and dragged into captivity — and 
the supremacy of the state in matters of religion all 
but openly avowed ; — such, amid many material ser- 
vices, and a blaze of military glory, was the French 
Government from 1804 to 18 14. And observe, all 
those forms and institutions that, even in the de- 
cline of the old monarchy, had served as checks 
and limitations to arbitrary power, were swept away 
by the Revolution. The local legislatures, however 
mutilated — the provincial franchises — the rights of 
the various municipal corporations — the parliaments, 
where the magistracy often uttered so courageous a 
language — an aristocracy which, though divested of 
direct political power, still exerted that great influ- 
ence which intellectual cultivation, large property. 



The ' ' Martyrs " Projected, 257 

and hereditary rank never fail to confer — an opulent 
and influential clergy that, in its stated periodical 
meetings, boldly remonstrated against abuses in 
Church and State — lastly, the written laws, imme- 
morial customs, and practices and habitudes of ages : 
— such, even in the reigns of Louis XIV. and of 
Louis XV., were the surviving, though defective, bul- 
warks of freedom. 

The fate of the last of the Condes opened an im- 
passable abyss between the Emperor Napoleon and 
the illustrious man whose biography I have been 
tracing. Henceforth he devoted himself almost ex- 
clusively to literature. 

He now conceived the project of writing an epic 
poem, in which he might realize his own theories of 
art. The subject he selects is the deadly struggle 
between nascent Christianity and expiring Paganism 
in the reign of the Emperor Diocletian. He was re- 
solved that the new poem should bear the same local 
colouring, the same fidelity of costume, as his Ameri- 
can tales. Hence he resolves to visit the great scenes 
of primitive Christianity — Greece, Asia Minor, Syria, 
Palestine, and Egypt. 

Leaving France, M. de Chateaubriand visits Italy 
again, embarks at Venice for Greece, and lands in 
the Morea. He repairs to the ruins of Sparta, and 
evokes from the river Eurotas the shade of Leonidas. 
He visits the city of Minerva, admires her wonderful 
Parthenon, and from the summit of the Areopagus 

R 



258 M. de Chateaubriand. 

looks down on her majestic ruins. He then repairs 
to Corinth, where so many recollections, sacred and 
profane, crowd upon his mind. Thence taking ship- 
ping, he hails the promontory of Sigeum, and the 
tomb of Achilles, and abides for a time in Constan- 
tinople. Thence embarking, he pays a short visit 
to Smyrna, passes by the white clustering Cyclades, 
which he compares to " a flight of swans,'^ lands at 
Rhodes with its antique towers, visits the vine-clad 
Cyprus, and then, hailing Mount Carmel in the dis- 
tance, lands at Jaffa. Here, like a devout pilgrim, 
he treads with awe those plains — 

'* Trodden by those feet, 
Which, eighteen hundred years ago, were nail'd 
For our redemption on the bitter cross." 

He visits wdth devotion all the scenes of our divine 
Lord^s life, ministry, and death, the grotto of Beth- 
lehem, the city of Nazareth, the lake Tiberias, and, 
like another Godfrey, falls on his knees as he descries 
from afar the Holy City. In the desolate region 
around, teeming with the recollections of four thou- 
sand years, he sees how the land hath been scathed 
and riven by the lightnings of Almighty vengeance. 
He enters within the walls of the city of David, and 
finds it sad and silent as a sepulchre. He looks for 
the ancient temple, and gropes in its foundations, 
and finds the stones scattered and dispersed, like the 
people whom that temple symbolized. He crosses 
the brook Cedron, enters into the garden of Olives, 



Travels in Holy Land, 259 

and there counts but six or seven olive-trees of that 
group, which had once witnessed the blood-sweat of 
an agonizing God. He ascends the Mount of Cal- 
vary, and kisses the footprints of his Saviour. 

He is smitten with terror in the valley of Jehosha- 
phat. Thence he follows the turbid stream of Jor- 
dan, views the Dead Sea, a fearful monument of 
Divine wrath, an object of mysterious dread alike to 
the Jew, the Christian, and the Mussulman. Here 
he hsts to the wandering Arabs' tales, and depicts 
their aspect and manners with the incomparable 
magic of his own eloquence. 

Then he visits Alexandria, ascends the Nile, and 
views those marvellous pyramids of Memphis which, 
like mountains, overshadow the sandy plains. He 
leaves these pyramids covered with inscriptions, once 
as mysterious as the sources of their own Nile, and 
returns to Alexandria. Thence departing, he hails 
the yellow shores of the once-flourishing Cyrene, 
visits the ruins of Carthage, and then lands in Spain. 
He sees the Alcazar of Seville, and the palace of 
Alhambra, and under the wretched rule of an un- 
worthy favourite,* discerns those latent national ener- 
gies that were soon to burst forth in the great War of 
Independence. He returns to Paris, and publishes 
the results of his travels in his ^^ Itineraire," which a 
great Catholic French writer once told me, he re- 
garded as the most perfect of his works. 
* The Prince of the Peace; 



LECTURE II. 

LIFE, WRITINGS, AND TIMES OF M. DE CHATEAUBRIAND 

— Continued, 

COON after his return from the Holy Land, M. de 
Chateaubriand bought a small property in the 
neighbourhood of Paris, called La Vallee aux Loups^ 
and which he has rendered so celebrated. About 
the same time he purchased from M. de Fontanes the 
journal Le Mercure^ hoping that in the straitened con- 
dition of his pecuniary affairs, this might prove a 
profitable speculation. These hopes were, however, 
soon to be blighted by an untoward event. 

Having occasion to review in that journal M. de 
la Borde's "Travels in Spain," he inserted in the 
critique some very stinging, though covert allusions 
to Napoleon's military despotism. 

The following passage, which I shall now cite, 
breathes, indeed, the burning, compressed indigna- 
tion of a Tacitus. "When in the silence of abject 
fear,'' says he, " we hear only resound the chain of 
the slave, and the voice of the informer; when all 
tremble before the tyrant, and when it is as danger- 
ous to incur his favour as to merit his disgrace ; — the 
historian appears charged with the vengeance of na- 



The Suppression of the ''Mercure!' 261 

tions. It is in vain Nero prospers ; Tacitus is al- 
ready born within his empire ; he grows up unknown 
near the ashes of Germanicus ; and already a just 
Providence hath abandoned to an obscure child the 
glory of the master of the world. If the part of an 
historian is glorious, it is often dangerous \ but there 
are altars, like that of honour, which, though aban- 
doned, still demand sacrifices. The god is not 
annihilated because the temple is deserted. Where- 
ever there is a chance for fortune, there is no heroism 
in attempting it. Magnanimous actions are those 
whereof the result foreseen is misfortune and death. 
After all, what matter reverses, if our name pro- 
nounced by posterity, shall, two thousand years after 
our death, make one generous heart beat with emo- 
tion ! '' 

This article led to the suppression of the Mercure, 
The subject of the epic, in which Chateaubriand 
endeavoured to realize his own theory of art, was, as 
I said on a former occasion, the mortal conflict be- 
tween nascent Christianity and expiring Paganism in ' 
the reign of the Emperor Diocletian. The object of 
the author is to oppose the pure worship of the Chris- 
tians to the voluptuous, and often cruel festivals of 
the Pagans. The religious zeal, the piety, the purity, 
the inexhaustible charity, the unshaken loyalty to their ^ 
temporal rulers, the rigid fidelity in all the relations 
of life, and the heroic fortitude under the bitterest 
trials and the bloodiest persecutions, which* distin- 



262 M. de Chateaubriand, 

guished the first followers of Christ, are contrasted 
with the selfishness, the pride, the sensuality, the in- 
difference to human suffering, evinced by even the 
better heathens. And I put out of comparison the 
impiety, the cruelty, and the debaucheries which 
stained the worse description of Pagans, especially in 
the last ages of declining Rome. 

This work, entitled the "Martyrs,^' possesses all 
the elements which, according to the best critics, 
constitute the epic. Its subject is important, indeed 
one of the most important that can be conceived ; 
and it is also complex and varied, and remote in 
time. The incidents are, many of them, founded on 
real history, and all bear the marks of historical 
probability. Then if we regard the execution, the 
characters are cast in that mould of ideal grandeur 
becoming the Epos, and where we must not look 
for a clear, sharp outline of portraiture, as in dramatic 
poetry, nor for that minute delineation that belongs 
to the novel of real life. 

The passion of love, which in "Atala^' displayed 
a tumultuous vehemence, which in "Rene" took a 
false and fatal direction, is in the " Martyrs " at once 
more mild and more exalted, influencing both the 
imagination and the feelings ; is animated by piety, 
tried by persecution, and at last illumined with the 
halo of Christian martyrdom. 

The interest of the plot is well sustained, though 
the introductory matter is too long, and the episodes 



The Tale of the '' Martyrs!' 263 

are too many. The main personages in this poem 
are the hero Eudorus, the heroine Cymodice, and her 
father Demodocus, the sophist Hierocles, and the 
emperors Diocletian and Galerius. 

The hero Eudorus is a Christian, who by his skill 
and valour has obtained high rank in the Roman 
army, and rendered most important services to the 
state. The gratitude of the Emperor Diocletian re- 
wards him with the highest military honours and ap- 
pointments. Having been brought back by various 
circumstances and events to a sense of religion and 
virtue, he resigns his mihtary dignities, presents him- 
self to the holy Pontiff, Marcellinus, who then rules 
the Church of God, and is directed by him to go 
through a prescribed course of penance. He retires 
to his parents in Arcadia ; and here the proper story 
of the epic commences. The heroine Cymodice is 
the daughter of Demodocus, a descendant of Homer, 
and a priest in the temple of Ithom^ in Messenia. 
The sophist Hierocles, who was governor of Messenia, 
and for his pride and impiety was detested alike by 
Christians and by Pagans, has conceived a violent 
passion for the beautiful maiden. She abhors any 
alliance with so detestable a wretch; and the father, 
to rescue her from such a disgrace, consecrates her, 
in the temple of Ithome, to the service of the Muses. 
One night after assisting at a festival of Diana, she 
bends her steps homewards ; but lost in admiration of 
the resplendent heavens, and of the beautiful scenery 



264 M. de Chateaicbriand. 

around her, she misses her way. She suddenly dis- 
covers a youth slumbering, like Endymion, beside a 
fountain ; and the dog at his side, startled by the ap- 
proach of the virgin, rouses by its barking his master 
from his slumbers. She begs him to direct her course, 
as she has gone astray. The young man rises, and con- 
ducts her steps towards the home of her sire. His 
beautiful brow, and noble port, and frank, ingenuous 
manner, and lofty discourse, lead the maiden to take 
him for one of those benign divinities which sometimes 
assume a mortal guise. Any allusions she makes to 
her false deities the stranger checks and represses, by 
pointing to the great God who created, and who 
rules the heavens and the earth. He casts his mantle 
over a poor slave he finds lying by the wayside ; and 
on the priestess asking him whether this man were 
his kinsman, he tells her that all men are brethren. 

It is thus that, with great skill, Chateaubriand at 
the very outset of his poem points out the moral an- 
tagonism existing between Christianity and Paganism 
— a moral antagonism that was the source of the out- 
ward conflict raging between the two religions, and 
which forms the subject of the work. 

The stranger conducts the maiden to her home ; 
but before he bids her farewell, he gives his name — it 
is Eudorus, the son of Lasthenes. Cymodice follows 
him with her eyes, doubting whether, from his laconic 
answers, he be not a Spartan ; or whether, from his 
acts and sentiments, some benign divinity in human 



The Tale of the ^''Martyrs!' 265 

shape. Her father, with tears in his eyes, rushes for- 
ward to embrace her ; for, thinking she might have 
been carried off by the impious Hierocles, he had 
been for many hours in a state of agonizing suspense. 
Demodocus informs his daughter that I.asthenes is the 
head of an ancient and opulent house in Arcadia, and 
that his son Eudorus is a vaHant general, who, though 
young, has achieved great exploits in war, and ob- 
tained high military honours and distinction in the 
Roman state. 

Demodocus resolves to repair with his daughter to 
the abode of Lasthenes, in order to return to him and 
Eudorus their heartfelt thanks for the signal service 
which the latter had rendered to Cymodice. The 
parent and daughter leave the banks of the Pamisus, 
and, coming into Arcadia, cross the Alpheus, and 
reach the abode of Lasthenes. Here he and his 
family hospitably entertain them, and are soon dis- 
covered by their guests to belong to the much hated 
and persecuted sect of Christians. The domestic 
life of the early disciples of Christ is here charmingly 
described. At the evening repast, Eudorus is bidden 
by Cyril, the Christian bishop, to recount the history 
of his life. He complies with the request; and in 
detaihng his military successes, and the distinctions 
and honours which rewarded them, he shews an in- 
genuous modesty. He recounts with sorrow the 
irregularities of his youth, his neglect of all religious 
exercises, and his consequent exclusion from the 



c 



266 M, de Chateaubriand. 

Church. Then he describes his deep repentance — 
his submission to the ecclesiastical authorities — and 
the course of penance they had prescribed. The 
Pagan priest and his daughter are struck with the 
apparition of virtues hitherto unknown to them ; and 
Cymodice, especially, is at a loss which most to ad- 
mire, the heroism of Eudorus, or the noble candour 
which breathes in all his words. The light of Chris- 
tianity gradually dawns upon her mind, and dispels 
the mists and the motley phantoms of Paganism. 
The ethical grandeur of the new religion overpowers 
her with amazement, and throws into insignificance 
all the mere human virtues, which had hitherto been 
the objects of her admiration. Love, no doubt, 
points her steps to the new creed; but reason and 
conscience prompt her to obey the call. The manly 
beauty of Eudorus, his heroic courage, his ingenuous 
manners, his lofty virtues, and the sublime religion 
which has inspired them, alternately fill her with 
admiration. But, on the other hand, how can she 
forsake her aged father whom she so fondly loves, or 
that temple of Ithome where he ministers, and where 
her own lyre is still suspended % How can a daughter 
of the family of Homer give up at once that grace- 
ful mythology, interwoven with her very existence? 
How can she give up those religious festivals in which 
she intoned the paeans to her gods, or those sacred 
dances in which she bore so graceful a part % Her 
mind yet lingers on those spots dear to memory, and 



The Tale of the '' Marty rsT 267 

sacred to the Muses — on the laurel groves of her own 
Messenia — on the beautiful woods haunted by the 
Dryades, and on the streams where the Naiads lave 
their luxuriant tresses. 

The time, too, in which Cymodice is invited to 
embrace the Christian religion, is the eve of the 
tenth sanguinary persecution. How can the Pagan 
priest consent to his daughter's forming an alliance 
with a Christian under circumstances so perilous to 
both? 

It is difficult for us, indeed^ whose existence is, 
comparatively speaking, so serene, so undisturbed, to 
realize the afflicted state of the early Church. Truly, 
as the Scripture saith, we were bought with a great 
price. The ransom of our redemption was not only 
paid for in the blood of an Incarnate God ; but that 
ransom was also transmitted to us through the tears, 
the anguish, the sufferings, the martyrdoms of our 
fathers in the faith. How precarious, how unstable 
was the condition of those first Christians ! What 
base denunciations were they not exposed to ! What 
unjust sentences, what cruel confiscations, what out- 
rages and sufferings of every kind were their lot ! 
What strange vicissitudes in their destiny ! What 
frequent disrupture of the family ties! How often 
did exile, or the prison, or the mines, or death, sever 
the husband and the wife, the father and the child ! 
How often was the torch of Hymen kindled in one 
month to be extinguished in the next ; and how often 



268 M. de Chateaubriand. 

was the bridal wreath dragged in the blood-stained 
dust of the Roman arena ! 

Such was the period of trial in which the poet has 
placed his epic story. 

My limits will not allow me to give an analysis of 
this poem ; and I can do no more than direct your 
attention to a few remarkable passages. 

I may point to the vivid descriptions of the 
" Christian Mysteries in the Catacombs/' as well as 
of the voluptuous festivals and tumultuous proces- 
sions of Paganism at Rome. The speech of Eu- 
dorus in behalf of his persecuted brethren before 
the Roman Senate is admirable, and of itself shews 
the great oratorical talents of Chateaubriand. 

I may again cite that beautiful description of 
Athens at sunset. In the portico of the temple of 
Minerva, on the Areopagus, while the festival of the 
Panathenaea is being celebrated, — while the noble 
strains of Sophocles are rising up from the theatre of 
Bacchus below, and while the temples, porticoes, 
palaces, theatres, and olive-groves of the city, Mount 
Hymettus, the Piraeus, the sea, and the distant ^gina 
are glowing in the rays of the setting sun, — the poet 
represents Eudorus and Cymodice as reiterating in 
the presence of her aged sire their vows of mutual 
afifection. 

Again, how beautiful is that apostrophe to her 
native Greece, which Cymodice makes, when she 
believes that the life of Eudorus has been spared, 



The Tale of the ''Martyrs!' 269 

and that she will once more be united to him. The 
Christian wife of her jailer is a weak and timid Chris- 
tian. She had conveyed to the prisoner under her 
husband's charge an idle report, that all the Chris- 
tian prisoners were to receive a pardon, and be dis- 
charged. This hope, which some had entertained, 
was soon to vanish ; and now the cruel Pagan jailer 
bids his Christian wife convey to Cymodice the 
martyr's dress destined for the women who were to 
perish in the amphitheatre. This consisted of a blue 
tunic, a black girdle, buskins, and a mantle of the 
same colour, and a white veil. The poor, timid 
woman, amid sobs and tears, enters the prison, but 
dares not undeceive her orphan charge, and acquaint 
her with her fate. " Behold," said she, '' my dear 
sister, the dress that I have brought thee. May the 
peace of the Lord be with thee ! '' " What vesture 
is thisT' cries Cymodice; ^'is it my nuptial robe'Z 
Doth it come from the hands of my dear Eudorus % " 

" It is on his account,'' replies Blanche, " that you 
must accept it." 

" Oh ! " exclaims Cymodice in a tone of joy, ''my 
bridegroom hath then received his pardon, and we 
shall yet be united in happiness and love ! " 

Blanche in tears retires from the prison. Cymodice 
then arrays herself in the martyr's garb, under the 
delusion that she is to celebrate an earthly hymeneal, 
and not a celestial union. 

She reclines her head gracefully on her hand, and 



270 M. de Chateaubriand. 

breathes forth those beautiful strains, which M. de 
Fontanes was never tired of admiring, and which are 
certainly among the most harmonious in French 
literature : — 

" Ye rapid vessels of Ausonia, haste and cleave the 
calm and brilliant surface of the deep ! Ye votaries 
of Neptune, spread the canvas to the amorous breath 
of the breeze, and ply the vigorous oar ! Waft me 
back to the happy banks of Pamisus, and restore me 
to the arms of my sire, and of my spouse. Fly, thou 
bird of Libya, whose neck bends with such graceful 
ease ; fly to the summits of Ithome, and tell them that 
the daughter of Homer is coming to revisit the laurel 
groves of Messenia ! 

" When shall I again behold my couch of ivory, the 
cheering radiance of my native skies, those meadows 
which are enamelled with flowers, watered by the 
most limpid of rills, and cherished by the breath of 
purity itself! 

"I was compared to the tender roe, which goes 
forth from her sylvan grotto, wanders without fear 
upon the mountains, and is led forth to pasture by 
the music of the rustic pipe. Now how changed the 
scene, confined as I am to a solitary prison, stretched 
on a bed of straw ! 

" Whence comes it, that while I endeavour to imi- 
tate the lively warblings of the sylvan choir, I can only 
sigh like the lute that pours out its wailings over the 
dead] I, who am clothed in the nuptial garment, 



The Tale of the ''Martyrs!' 271 

whose heart shall feel every maternal joy and dis- 
quietude, and who shall one day behold a son cling- 
ing to my robe, hke the timid bird that seeks refuge 
under its mother's wing. Ah, I am myself a tender 
bird that hath been torn from the parent-nest! O 
my sire and my spouse, whence this delay 1 there 
was a time when I should have implored the Graces 
and the Muses to restore me to your arms ; when 
from the entrails of the slain victim, I should have 
interrogated the will of Heaven : but now I should 
offend that God, whose worship I have lately em- 
braced : I will lay my sorrows at the foot of the 
cross. " 

In the episode of Velleda, the author treads, I 
think, on ground dangerous for the Christian moralist, 
and which appears to me somewhat incongruous 
with the tone of his sacred epic. But it cannot be 
denied, that the character of the Gaulish priestess — 
her pride — her hatred of the Roman rule — her as- 
cendancy over her countrymen — her wild, fantastic 
deportment — and her passionate love are powerfully 
portrayed. 

Among the other episodical personages, St Jerome, 
St Augustine, and the Prince, afterwards emperor, 
Constantine, while the three were yet the votaries of 
unlawful pleasure, are depicted in brief, but charac- 
teristic traits. 

By a strange, though intentional anachronism, the 
* Martyrs, vol. ii., pp. 259, 260. Eng. Trans. London, 1809. 



272 M. de Chateaubriand. 

two fathers of the Church, who were born long after 
Constantine, are made contemporary with him. 

It may be objected, indeed, that though the poem 
of the ^^ Martyrs," from the nature and the length of 
the story, the variety of the incidents, and the im- 
portance of the personages engaged, may fairly be 
ranked among epics ; yet, from the fact of its being 
written in prose, it must lose much of its epical pre- 
tensions. To this objection I may reply, that Aris- 
totle and other ancient critics have declared, that an 
epic poem might be written in prose ; and that their 
judgment has been ratified by the moderns. 

The " Telemaque,'^ from the time of its publication 
down to the present day, has by English as well as by 
French critics, ever been entitled 2.p(Tem. And if we 
look to the " Martyrs," we shall find that it has an 
equal right to the same designation. The exquisite 
delicacy and brilHance of the diction — the studied 
cadence of the periods — the frequent and lengthy 
similitudes — the elaborate descriptions of scenery — 
the introduction of the marvellous in the machinery 
of the work — all prove that its place is in the region 
of poetry, and not of prose. Both works, indeed, 
the ''Telemachus^' and the "Martyrs" are written in 
what the French call poetical prose. There is no 
doubt, however, that had Fenelon and Chateaubriand 
been Englishmen, they would have composed, the 
one the " Telemachus," and the other the "Mar- 
tyrs," in blank verse. This poetical prose — a non- 



Critique on the ''Martyrs!' 273 

descript — uncongenial to our taste and our literature 
— is indeed for long works preferable to the monoto- 
nous French Alexandrine, and is, on the whole, 
suitable to the more rhetorical cast of the French 
mind, which can rarely soar into the highest regions 
of poetry. Yet there is no question that it evinces 
the metrical poverty of the French language \ and as 
there is a very close connexion between sentiment 
and versification, this sort of hybrid style must ex- 
ercise a depressing influence on the French imagina- 
tion. 

Taking a general review of Chateaubriand's work, 
we must allow that, as was before observed, the char- 
acters are finely drawn. The piety and heroism of 
Eudorus ; the beauty, gentleness, religious constancy, 
filial affection, and devotedness to the bridegroom 
which distinguish Cymodice, the most charming crea- 
tion of the author's genius ; and the parental tender- 
ness of her sire, the Pagan priest ; — all these person- 
ages are admirably portrayed. Not less so is the 
more generous-minded, but timid and vacillating Em- 
peror Diocletian, the debauched and ferocious Ga- 
lerius, and the vain, crafty, vindictive, and impious 
sophist Hierocles. Of the subordinate characters, 
or of those which play a part in the episodes, I have 
already spoken. The descriptions of scenery, of 
manners, of religious festivals, national customs, and 
battles, with which this poem abounds, are of consum- 
mate beauty and splendour. 



2 74 ^' ^^ Chateaubriand. 

The diction is, as has been already remarked, more 
ornate and highly finished than in any of the author's 
former works, precisely because, though in prose, it is 
destined to subserve the purposes of poetry. The 
research displayed in this work is very considerable. 
The Greek and Roman writers, the primitive fathers, 
and the Church historians, are used for argument, or- 
nament, and illustration. To point out some defects in 
this beautiful production, I should say that an air of ar- 
tificiality seems to pervade it. The episodes form too 
large a portion of the work, and the proper action ot 
the epic story begins too late. The scene of the nar- 
rative shifts too frequently ; and the author, aware that 
his great charm lies in description, is constantly trans- 
porting his heroes and heroines from one country to 
another — from Rome to Naples, from Naples to 
Baiae, from Baiae back again to Rome, from Rome 
to Gaul, and thence to Germany, and even to the 
neighbourhood of the Euxine. Thence the scene of 
action is successively transferred to Messenia, to Ar- 
cadia, to Athens, to the Holy Land, to Jerusalem, 
to the Dead Sea, to the confines of Arabia, to Lower 
Egypt, to Carthage, and back again to Rome. This 
perpetual change of place on one hand leaves a some- 
what confused impression on the mind, and on the 
other unavoidably suggests to us the idea that, in- 
stead of the places being introduced for the sake of 
the incidents, the incidents are introduced for the 
sake of the places. This artificial character again 



Critique on the ''Martyrs!' 275 

comes out in the anachronism, which makes St 
Jerome and St Augustine contemporaries with the 
Emperor Constantine, to whom they were long pos- 
terior in date. And again, that Cymodice should 
meet in the desert the friend of her bridegroom, St 
Jerome, and receive from his hands precisely the 
sacrament of baptism, has something in it forced. 

There is a sort of stiffness and awkwardness, too, 
in the way in which the supernatural mechanism is 
handled. 

It has been also objected by some critics, that the 
poetical Paganism professed and practised by Demo- 
docus and his daughter was not the Paganism of the 
fourth century of our era, when scepticism was so 
widely prevalent. But it may, I think, be replied, 
that the author has placed those personages in the 
remote province of Messenia, where, from the rustic 
simpHcity of manners, heathenism had not the cor- 
rupt character which it displayed in the cities of At- 
tica, Asia Minor, and Italy. 

Lastly, I should say that in the very catastrophe of 
the poem there is an incongruous mixture of feelings. 
We know not whether Cymodice, in rushing into the 
Roman amphitheatre, to share the fate of her bride- 
groom, is inspired by Christian heroism, or by human 
love, or by a combination of both. The bride, con- 
trary to the bidding of the gladiator, has forced her 
way into the arena. She has not yet been called on 
to witness to her Divine Lord by the shedding of her 



276 M. de Chateaubriand. 

blood j but she spontaneously rushes forward into the 
amphitheatre, and, in the embraces of her bridegroom, 
divides with him the palm of martyrdom. In the 
early stages of her conversion it was well to shew how 
human affection prepared her soul for the reception 
of the Christian faith ; but in the last and supreme 
act of holy martyrdom Divine love should, I think, 
have held over her heart an undivided sway. In one 
or two other passages of the work we meet with the 
same infelicitous mixture of earthly and heavenly 
affections, and which seems to shew that Chateau- 
briand had not attained to the highest ideal of Chris- 
tian art. He was in general too fond of glaring con- 
trasts, and did not sufficiently understand the art of 
fusing his colours. 

This poem was far from meeting at first with the 
great success which "Atala" and the "Genie du 
Christianisme " had experienced. The fact was, the 
press was far more enslaved than under the consul- 
ship, for Napoleon had confiscated the property of 
all the journals ; and even literary criticism was jea- 
lously controlled by the imperial police. In the 
Journal des Debats^ which had been taken from 
the management of its proprietors — who were 
henceforth reduced to an annual rent out of its 
profits — M. Hoffman pubHshed a series of articles, 
containing, it is allowed, a most unjust and violent 
attack on the " Martyrs.'' M. de Fontanes hastened, 
with his wonted generosity, to the vindication of his 



Death of a Relative. 277 

friend, and published those beautiful stanzas com- 
mencing with the line — 

** Le Tasse errant de ville en ville." 

Chateaubriand, following the advice of friendly critics, 
made several corrections in the work, which now 
obtained great favour, and passed through many edi- 
tions. 

At this period he experienced a severe domestic 
calamity. Armand de Chateaubriand, his kinsman, 
and comrade in war and in exile, was seized in a can- 
ton of Normandy, accused of having carried on a cor- 
respondence from Guernsey against Napoleon's gov- 
ernment, brought to Paris, and delivered over to a 
military tribunal to be tried for this offence. Though 
the Paris journals observed the strictest silence on 
this whole transaction, it came to the knowledge of 
Chateaubriand. Hereupon, he addressed an urgent 
petition to the Emperor in behalf of his unfortunate 
relative ; and though the Empress Josephine was gra- 
ciously pleased to place the petition in the hands of 
her imperial consort, the latter cast it into the fire, 
and suffered the sentence of condemnation pro- 
nounced by the military tribunal to be carried into 
effect. 

Armand de Chateaubriand, with two fellow-prison- 
ers — the Count de Goyon, and a servant called Quin- 
tal — was shot on Good Friday, 1809, on the plain of 
La Crenelle. What serious mischief could such ob- 



278 M, de Chateaubriand. 

scure intrigues inflict at that period on the powerful 
government of Napoleon ! And how unjust and cruel 
was capital punishment for an offence attended with 
so little danger ! 

We may well suppose that this heavy domestic 
affliction, added to the secret persecutions of the im- 
perial police, and the ignoble attacks of literary jea- 
lousy and political enmity, tended to embitter the 
triumphs which our author's muse had just won. The 
year 1809, he declares, was one of the most unfortu- 
nate in his life. 

In the year 18 10 the ^^Itineraire de Paris \ Jerusa- 
lem " was pubKshed. The substance of this work I 
analysed in my last lecture, when I described the 
author's tour through Greece, Asia Minor, the Holy 
Land, and Egypt. As to the execution of the work 
itself, I can only say that I consider it the finest book 
of travels I ever read. A most competent judge, the 
Abbe de la Mennais, once told me, " it was Chateau- 
briand's most faultless work." And the distinguished 
critic M. Villemain, in his recent life of our author, 
says, " It is an original and charming book, the most 
natural he ever wrote." 

The work from the first commanded universal ap- 
plause ; nor has the public estimation of its merits 
ever varied. The subject called forth the author's 
various and elegant learning, his reminiscences of 
sacred and profane antiquity, his keen observation of 
manners and customs, and his wonderful descriptive 



His Poetical Productions. 279 

powers, which here, if in manner less ornate and 
elaborate, are perhaps still more vivid and natural 
than in the ^^ Martyrs." The *^ Itineraire,'' which was 
designed by the author to be a mere supplemental 
volume of illustration to the latter work, was found 
to vie with it, and even in some respects to surpass it. 

Some of Chateaubriand's lyrics are very pleasing, 
and even touching. He tells us in his Memoirs that 
he found in the muse a solace and a relaxation at 
almost all periods of his life. He adds, that M. de 
Fontanes regretted he should have given up the culti- 
vation of poetry, in which he thought him destined to 
obtain great success. But Chateaubriand's memory 
must have here failed him ; for M. Villemain asserts 
the direct contrary. He represents that able critic as 
affirming that while Chateaubriand displayed such 
creative powers in prose, his poetry was flat and 
prosaic. His tragedy of *'Moise,'' which I have 
never read, is pronounced by Villemain to be frigid 
and monotonous. The relations between prose and 
poetry, and the various elements that go to constitute 
excellence in either, are most subtle and intricate, and 
seem often to elude analysis. 

In 1 810 the Emperor Napoleon expressed to his 
minister his utter surprise that the " Genie du Chris- 
tianisme " had not been placed by the Institute on 
the list of books, whose authors were entitled to cer- 
tain prizes, which he had charged it to allot. The 
Institute was then in a great degree composed of no- 



2 8o M, de Chateaubriand. 

torious infidels and disguised Jacobins, who had not 
long before proposed a wretched materialistic produc- 
tion — the " Catechism," by St Lambert — as a book 
worthy of an academic prize. The majority of the 
Institute, in despite of the remonstrances of many 
distinguished members, declared that the ^^ Genie du 
Christianisme" did not come under the class of works 
to which the academic prizes could be adjudged, but 
recommended Chateaubriand's book to the especial 
attention of the Emperor as deserving of every encour- 
agement. In this way this body sought to evade the 
directions of the Government, without at the same 
time coming into direct collision with it. 

At this juncture died the poet Joseph Chenier, a 
member of the Academy ; and that Institution, forty 
days after his death, and by almost unanimous suf- 
frages, elected in his place M. de Chateaubriand. His 
more violent religious and political opponents ab- 
stained from voting ; and thus sought to relieve their 
body from its embarrassing position towards the Gov 
ernment. The Emperor, on the very evening of the 
election, congratulated M. de Fontanes on the very 
excellent choice which the Academy had just made. 
The new Academician had, according to custom, to 
deliver a speech on his reception at the Academy ; 
and in this he was obliged to take a review of the life 
and literary labours of his predecessor. The religious 
and political sentiments of the Voltairian and regicide 
Chenier were, of course, in direct antagonism to those 



His Farewell to Letters. 281 

of our author ; and in such a biographical sketch he 
had to encounter difficulties on every side. In the 
academic discourse which he had prepared, Chateau- 
briand, while he acknowledged the literary merits of 
Chenier, that were respectable, denounced with his 
usual boldness his irreligious and revolutionary doc- 
trines and conduct. A secret committee of the Acad- 
emy, which examined the manuscript of the projected 
address, declared it was inadmissible ; and this was 
not surprising, as many of the members of that body 
shared the opinions, and were stained with the guilt 
of Chenier. The Emperor, who alternately flattered 
the Catholics and the Jacobins, and at this period 
was leaning decidedly towards the anti-Catholic party, 
confirmed the judgment of the committee. His hos- 
tility towards Chateaubriand increased ; and the latter 
was henceforth more exposed to the annoyances of the 
imperial police. 

But great political events are impending ; and it is 
to politics Chateaubriand will henceforth almost ex- 
clusively devote his intellectual powers. At the con- 
clusion of his ^^ Martyrs" he has the consciousness 
that he is about to leave for ever the fairy realms of 
romance, in which he had so long dwelt. " Farewell," 
says he, " O Fancy, thou who hast been my solace 
through life ; thou who hast partaken in my pleasures, 
but, alas, more frequently in my sorrows ! I canno*t 
sever myself from thee without a sigh ; for when I was 
but yet an enthusiastic youth, thou didst urge me to 



282 M. de Chateaubriand. 

traverse the seas, and didst cheer me amid the tem- 
pest that shivered my sail/^ 

• And so, we who so long have accompanied him 
through the sohtudes of America, through the adven- 
tures and the sorrows of the emigration, through the* 
troubled morning of his early literary life, and the 
splendour of its glorious noon, must now follow him 
into the great arena of his political career, where, in 
one of the most agitated and momentous epochs of 
human history, he plays a conspicuous part. We, 
too, must now bid farewell to the flowery meads of 
romance and to the groves of poetry; for we are 
about to enter on the thorny paths of political life. 

The giant Despotism, that had so long trodden on 
Europe, from Naples to Berlin, was now tottering to 
its fall. The huge idol of brass was found to have 
but feet of clay. 

The vices and errors of the imperial Government 
I noticed in my last lecture j and it is needless here 
to recapitulate them. The groans of oppressed na- 
tions, and the uplifted hands of a holy Pontiif in 
prison, had called down the vengeance of Heaven ; 
and on every side countless hosts sprang up ; and the 
very elements were arrayed against the oppressor. 
The violated security of home, conjugal rights disre- 
garded, the sacredness of law despised, national inde- 
pendence trampled under foot, the outraged majesty 
of kings, oppressed religion, — all put up a cry to the 



' ' Buonaparte and the Bourbons r 283 

Supreme Author of all justice; and that cry was 
heard. 

As, in 1 8 14, the combined armies were advancing 
on the French territory, and the French troops were 
falling back, the Corps Legislatif vainly endeavoured 
to bring Napoleon round to more moderate counsels, 
and to engage him to conclude an honourable peace. 
The monarchical and the republican parties both be- 
gan to be stirring. Chateaubriand already became 
the centre of a poUtical party. It was at this period 
that, at great personal risk, he composed his famous 
pamphlet, "Buonaparte and the Bourbons." This 
pamphlet is doubtless written in too passionate a 
tone : it exaggerates the faults and crimes of Napo- 
leon, and ascribes to his Government wrongs for which 
not he, but the Revolution, was responsible. The 
services which Napoleon had rendered to France, — 
the suppression of anarchy, the restoration of religion, 
great material improvements in the administration, 
the great encouragement given to the mathematical 
and physical sciences, — all these services are over- 
looked in this pamphlet. Yet the greater portion of 
the strictures are perfectly true, as the strong response 
which the essay found in the public opinion of that 
day seemed to shew. All that the author says in fa- 
vour of the restoration of the legitimate dynasty — that 
it would prevent a dismemberment of France, secure 
its independence, put an end to devastating wars of 



284 M. de Chateaubriand. 

ambition, establish a solid system of civil liberty, pro- 
mote commerce, and insure the freedom and dignity 
of the Church ; — all these statements are just and 
true. And if the Restoration but imperfectly accom- 
plished these beneficial results, this was not the fault 
of M. de Chateaubriand, nor of the political party 
of which he was long one of the most distinguished 
leaders. 

This pamphlet, "Buonaparte and the Bourbons," 
had an extraordinary sale, and was declared by Louis 
XVIII. to have been worth to his family one hundred 
thousand men. 

My limits will not allow me to trace the course of 
the momentous events which now followed in rapid 
succession. The abdication of the Emperor Na- 
poleon at Fontainebleau — the restoration of Louis 
XVIII. to the throne after an exile of twenty-five 
years — the return of the rest of the royal family — and 
the grant of the famous Charter — are great occur- 
rences, which I can do no more than advert to. The 
internal and foreign politics of the Restoration, so far 
as they bear on the life of the illustrious man whose 
biography I am sketching, will engage our attention 
in this and the following Lecture. I shall merely 
draw out the main thread of events, and connect with 
it the workings of our author. 

In the first year of the Restoration, he was named 
ambassador to Sweden ; a post which was a sort of 
honourable exile. But while he was making prepara- 



The Hundred Days. — His Peerage. 285 

tions for his departure, the sudden return of Napoleon 
from the isle of Elba put an end to the appointment. 
In this year, 1814, he had pubUshed his "Reflections 
on the New Order of Things," wherein are contained 
the germs of his work, entitled " The Monarchy ac- 
cording to the Charter," and which evince the best 
intentions, and contain many most soHd and useful 
observations. 

As Napoleon advanced on the capital, Chateau- 
briand followed Louis XVIII. and the court to 
Ghent, where he was admitted into the Royal Coun- 
cil. There he presented a famous state-paper, en- 
titled, " Report to the King on the Present State of 
France," a document which is remarkable for its 
political sagacity. 

On the return of the Bourbons to France in July 
1815, M. de Chateaubriand was made by the king a 
peer of France, and minister of state, with a pension. 
This place did not give a seat in the cabinet, but 
was a dignity somewhat corresponding to that of an 
English privy-councillor. 

The elections of 18 15 returned to the Chamber of 
Deputies a preponderating majority of men devoted to 
the Church and the monarchy, and counting among 
their members individuals distinguished as much for 
great talents, eloquence, and knowledge of business, 
as for property and ancient birth. In this Chamber 
the illustrious Catholic philosopher and publicist, 
M. de Bonald, proposed and carried the abolition of 



286 M, de Chateaubriand. 

divorce ; and so this stigma, which the Revolution had 
stamped on the French code, was for ever removed. 
The banishment of the relapsed Regicides* from 
France was another salutary measure which this 
Chamber passed j and it is remarkable that our great 
Burke had, with his wonderful prescience, declared 
twenty years before, that if the restored dynasty did 
not banish the Regicides, they would in a year's time 
upset the monarchy. This prediction was literally 
verified. The Chamber would have adopted many 
other healing and restorative measures had it not 
been suddenly dissolved by the king, at the instiga- 
tion of a young minister, named M. de Cazes, who, 
imbued as he was with very revolutionary sentiments, 
had obtained over the royal mind an extraordinary 
influence. 

To justify this violent measure, the ministerial, as 
well as the revolutionary journals and their corre- 
spondents in every country in Europe, spread all 
kinds of calumnies against the royalist majority in the 
Chamber of 1815. It was said that that majority 
aimed at the overthrow of the Charter, at the restitu- 
tion of tithes to the clergy, and at the restoring of 
the confiscated lands to the emigrant nobles or their 
descendants ; nay, it was even hinted that they were 
unfavourable to the civil toleration of the Protestants. 

* They were so called, because, after the amnesty they had 
received firom the king in 18 14, they took part against him on 
Napoleon's return ft-om Elba. 



Demands of the Royalists. 287 

These charges were utterly false. To begin with 
the matter of greatest importance — the Church — the 
royalists knew that the Holy See in its Concordat 
had solemnly renounced, on behalf of the French 
clergy, all claims to tithes, and every other descrip- 
tion of Church property that had been confiscated. 
They only claimed for the clergy some fixed, per- 
manent endowment instead of a precarious allowance, 
dependent on an annual parliamentary vote. While 
they desired full recognition by the state of the 
marriages of Protestants, they demanded that the 
registers should be restored to the Cathohc clergy, 
and civil marriages done away with. They de- 
manded the legal observance of the Sundays — a 
measure which, except in the capital and a few very 
large provincial cities, might have been easily carried 
out. They demanded a full execution of the Con- 
cordat, and an increase of episcopal sees from forty to 
eighty, a measure which was obtained six years later. 
They required the abolition of the oppressive organic 
articles, by which Napoleon had virtually nullified 
the Concordat, and against which the Holy See had 
solemnly protested. They required, too, the legal 
recognition, or, at least, toleration of religious orders 
of men. They asked for the reform of the university, 
which embraced all the academies and colleges of the 
country, and which was the deadliest gift the Revo- 
lution had bequeathed to France. 

While they were for the union of Church and 



288 M. de Chateaubriand. 

State — a union existing in all European countries, 
and more lately sanctioned by a solemn declaration 
of the Holy See, which declared it most salutary to 
both the civil and the spiritual powers — the French 
royalists recognized the necessity of the amplest 
toleration for all dissident sects. Never in the writ- 
ings, or in the conversation of the French Catholics, 
did I ever find the principle of religious toleration 
impugned. 

As to the restitution of their estates to the emigrant 
nobility, no sane man ever proposed such a measure ; 
for it was utterly impracticable. Napoleon, at the 
commencement of the century, had already, by a wise 
policy, facilitated in some instances the repurchase 
by the ancient owners of confiscated property on rea- 
sonable terms. But even such repurchases were now 
too late. All that the royalists demanded was a rea- 
sonable indemnity to a class that had suffered so 
much for their religion, king, and country, and which 
would tend at once to satisfy the claims of honour- 
able and devoted men, and to tranquillize the minds 
of the purchasers of the confiscated estates. This 
wise and heaHng measure was obtained ten years 
afterwards, and, I am happy to add, works well at 
the present day. 

As to the violent overthrow of the Charter, such an 
idea was never entertained by the most ardent royal- 
ist, however many might ' entertain doubts as to its 
durability. 



The JoMrnal '' Le Conservateur!' 289 

The Royalists demanded the abolition of bureau- 
cratic centralization, and the establishment of a com- 
prehensive communal and municipal system. They 
asked for the suppression of the censorship on journals, 
and for a free, but not a licentious press. They wished 
for a system of parliamentary elections that would 
embrace a great variety of interests, and insure to all 
the legitimate social influences, whether of rank, or of 
property, or of intelligence, or of civil magistracy, or 
of spiritual authority, their due weight. 

The proofs of these assertions which I have made, 
are to be found in the speeches of the members of 
the Cote Droit during the whole period of the Restor- 
ation, in the writings of their distinguished pubhcists, 
and, among others, in those of the illustrious man 
whose works I am reviewing, and especially in his 
*' Monarchic selon la Charte," which I shall presently 
notice. But if there were one writing more than 
another which served to dispel the absurd calumnies 
so zealously circulated against the Catholic and mon- 
archical party in France, it was the Conservateur. 
This was a bi-monthly periodical to which the most 
distinguished literati and politicians of the country 
contributed. They met once a week ; and Chateau- 
briand presided at their meetings, where papers, dis- 
cussing all important matters relating to the interests 
of Church and State, were read by their several con- 
tributors. Here, among others, attended the able 
administrator, Fidvee ; the distinguished orator, Count 



290 M. de Chateaubriand, 

Castelbajac; the illustrious philosopher, De Bonald; 
and a young priest, who was then in the bright morn- 
ing of his fame.^ This luminary had then just risen 
above the literary horizon of France, and by his extra- 
ordinary splendour was fixing all eyes upon himself. 
That priest was afterwards the dear friend of my 
youth ; and with whom I was in the bonds of the 
closest friendship as long as he remained true to him-, 
self, and true to his principles, and true to the Church, 
of which he had been so long an ornament. The 
Conservateur appeared for two years, from 18 16 to 
1 8 18, and powerfully contributed to the overthrow 
of the ministry of M. Decazes. 

It was in 181 6 M. de Chateaubriand published 
his political work entitled '^La Monarchic selon la 
Charte." In the first part he gives an exposition of 
the principles and practice of the modern representa- 
tive government j and, in the second part, he applies 
those principles to his own country. He concludes 
with remarks on the state of parties in France. 

The work displays great knowledge of the constitu- 
tion and the political history of England, and shews 
how well Chateaubriand had turned his long exile on 
our shores to account 

The statements are clear and precise j the observa- 
tions, though not profound, mostly sohd and judicious; 
the arguments frequently cogent j and the style, always 
perspicuous and flowing, is often brilliant. The book 
* The Abb^ de la Mennais. 



His Loss of Place and Pensio7t. 291 

produced a great sensation in France and in England, 
and has to this day remained a text-book of French 
constitutional law. 

The Chamber of Deputies, elected in 1815, and 
where the Royalist party had so strong a majority, 
and which Louis XVIII. had called the Chambre 
introuvable^ was, as we have seen, dissolved by a 
royal ordinance of September 181 6. In a postscript 
to his work, Chateaubriand, alluding to this fact, 
declares that the monarch entertained different views 
from his ministers, and had signed this ordinance 
with regret. 

Hereupon the ministers prosecuted the work of M. 
de Chateaubriand, and required of the king to strike 
him off the list of ministers of state, and deprive him 
of his pension. 

The new electoral law, passed in the new Chamber 
by the influence of ministers, threw the preponder- 
ance of power into the class of the small proprietors, 
and decreed the partial renovation every year of the 
Chamber of Deputies. These two articles of the new 
law gave great encouragement and force to the revolu- 
tionary party. Men of very anarchical principles and 
antecedents came successively into the Chamber of 
Deputies. 

The Royalist leaders in the Conservateur com- 
bated with great energy the poHcy of the ministers, 
and exposed the formidable dangers which beset the 
most sacred interests of society. The secession of 



292 M. de Chateaubriand. 

two of the most respected members of the Admin- 
istration, the Duke de Richeheu and M. Laine', 
strengthened for a time the dangerous influence of 
M. Decazes. The king was so infatuated with this 
minister that, to support him in the Chamber of 
Peers, he nominated sixty new peers, many of whom 
were decided Buonapartists. The election of the 
regicide, the famous Abbe Gregoire, opened the eyes 
of the monarch, and made him insist on a modifica- 
tion of the electoral law. 

At length an appalling event — the assassination of 
the Duke de Berri — filled France with consternation. 
The wretched assassin, Louvel, who by his crime 
wished to put an end to the Bourbon dynasty, had 
no doubt been influenced by the revolutionary fer- 
ment which had for some time prevailed. About the 
same time some military conspiracies broke out in 
diflerent parts of France. 

An eloquent tribute to the unfortunate prince, who 
had fallen the victim of revolutionary frenzy, issued 
from the pen of Chateaubriand, and served to allay 
the anguish of Christian France. The ministers gave 
unequivocal proofs of their horror at the fatal deed. 

The Count d'Artois and the Duke and Duchess 
d'Angouleme declared to the king that, if M. De- 
cazes was not dismissed from the ministry, they 
would quit the palace of the Tuileries. The king 
reluctantly consented to their request, and called the 
Duke de Richelieu a second time to the helm of 



The Royalist Ministry. 293 

affairs. He became President of the Council, but a 
year afterwards modified the Cabinet, and introduced 
into it two of the Royalist chiefs, M. de Villele and 
M. de Corbiere. It was agreed that M. de Chateau- 
briand should be named ambassador to the Court of 
Berhn. This success of the Royahst party, which 
took place in 182 1, was but partial; for its leader, 
M. de Villele, though in the Cabinet, took no office. 

Chateaubriand was very well received by the King 
of Prussia, and by his court. This favourable recep- 
tion was due partly to his great literary reputation, 
partly to the fact that the Prussian monarch and his 
ministers now saw that a party, frankly religious and 
monarchical, could alone arrest the progress of the 
Revolution in France. Though M. de Chateaubriand 
found much to charm and gratify him during his abode 
at Berlin, he yet sighed for the pohtical excitement 
of Paris. 

At length in 1822 the ministry was overturned, and 
the Royalist party seized the reins of government. 

The new ministry consisted of M. de Villele, as 
Minister of Finance ; M. de Corbiere, Minister of the 
Home Department ; the Viscount de Montmorency 
for Foreign Affairs; M. de Peyronnet, for Justice; and 
the Duke de Belluno, for War. 

At the same time M. de Chateaubriand was ap- 
pointed ambassador to the British Court. The poor 
emigrant nobleman that had quitted England in 1799, 
obscure and unknown, doubtful whether he would be 



294 ^' d^ Chateaubriand. 

allowed to plant his foot on his native soil, now re- 
turned crowned with literary laurels, and loaded with 
the honours of state. The exiled king, for whom 
he had fought and bled, and in whose cause he had 
endured the torments of exile and of penury, and had 
written such eloquent pages, was now restored to the 
throne of his ancestors. The wheel of fortune had re- 
volved, and the friendless exile was now the representa- 
tive of royalty. As he disembarked at Dover he was 
received with the roar of cannon; and a deputation 
from the municipal body, headed by the Lord Mayor, 
presented him an address. Two splendid carriages, 
each with four horses, and with outriders, conveyed 
him and his suite to the magnificent French Embassy 
in Portland Place, London, at a quarter of a mile's 
distance from that garret in Marylebone Street, 
where twenty-five years before he had found a shelter. 
At this period I was a young student of the law, 
and my enthusiasm for Chateaubriand's writings was 
at the highest pitch. I hastened, on the Sunday fol- 
lowing his arrival in London, to the little chapel of 
the French Embassy, situate in one of the back lanes 
of that metropoHs. It was to that chapel I used as a 
boy to go so frequently with my mother. There I 
used to see those venerable confessors of the faith — 
those holy priests, who, rather than betray their Church, 
had endured all manner of hardships and privations — 
penury, captivity, and exile. There I used to see the 
distinguished nobles and magistrates of France, with 



French Chapelin London. 295 

their high-born dames and daughters, despoiled, as 
they had been, of their wealth and shorn of their 
greatness, seek, at the foot of the altar, solace and 
resignation under their bitter misfortunes. There, 
too, had I seen the stately figure of the Count d'Ar- 
tois, afterwards Charles X., whom, in my simplicity, 
I used to take for a bishop; because, by a royal 
privilege, he was admitted within the sanctuary. 
Thither, too, used to repair for her devotions, and 
dressed in plain attire, the august grand-daughter of the 
Empress Maria Theresa — the heroic orphan-daughter 
of the virtuous Louis XVI. and Maria Antoinette — 
the Duchess d'Angouleme, that Niobe of modern 
history, as she has well been called — radiant with the 
twofold lustre of virtue and of misfortune — more 
majestic in her unutterable sorrow than had she been 
seated on the throne of France, amid all the glories 
of Versailles ! 

On the Sunday I speak of, the great French am- 
bassador and his secretaries arrived, and took the 
places assigned to them in the tribune. On this 
occasion the holy liturgy of our Church, which this 
distinguished man had described with such enchant- 
ing eloquence, seemed to make a livelier impression 
than ever on my heart. As soon as the holy sacrifice 
was terminated, I hastened with some friends to the 
chapel door, in order to catch a glimpse of the am- 
bassador. Fortunately we found him standing at the 
door, awaiting the arrival of his carriage. What plea- 



296 M. de Chateaubriand, 

sure I then had in looking on the wanderer of the 
American forests and savannahs — the pilgrim of the 
Holy Land — the bard of Christianity— and the de- 
fender of restored monarchy! Chateaubriand was 
then in all the vigour of mature manhood. The sable 
locks, intermingled with gray, still clustered round his 
manly brow; — his marked and striking features had an 
earnest, and even melancholy expression ; while his 
cheek, imbrowned by travel, was stained with the 
variation of many a clime. The shape of his head 
was remarkably fine. I longed to hear the sound of 
his voice, however low; but not a whisper could I 
catch. Twice afterwards I saw Chateaubriand — once 
in the streets of London with his secretary, Count 
Marcellus ; and the last time, which was in the follow- 
ing year, when he presided at Paris over a CathoHc 
literary society, called "La Societe des bonnes Etudes." 
In this spring of 1822 he attended a public dinner, 
at which Mr Canning presided. The celebrated Eng- 
lish orator was not then in office, but was on the eve 
of his departure for India, as Governor-General of 
that great British dependency. Mr Canning pro- 
posed the health of the illustrious foreign guest in 
words which I remember as distinctly as if I had 
heard them but yesterday. " M. de Chateaubriand," 
said he, "began his career by defending the prin- 
ciples of Christianity, and has continued it by sup- 
porting those of monarchy. And he has now come 
over to us to unite the two countries in the common 



His Embassy in London. 297 

bonds of monarchical principles and of Christian sen- 
timents." This interesting occurrence is (to my sur- 
prise) not at all noticed by Chateaubriand in his 
memoirs. 

Some time after this public dinner, he gave, in 
honour of Louis XVIII.^s saint's-day, a most costly 
and magnificent entertainment to the Duke of York, 
the ministers, the foreign ambassadors, and all the 
nobihty of London. He was, unfortunately, too pro- 
fuse in his expenditure ; and when in office, he enter- 
tained in a style of magnificence becoming only a 
nobleman of ample hereditary wealth. Madame de 
Chateaubriand had not accompanied him to London 
this time ; but on great occasions the honours of the 
embassy were discharged by his cousin, the Mar- 
chioness de la Bellinaye, whom I had the honour 
of being afterwards well acquainted with, and who, 
from the period of the first emigration, had resided in 
London, where two years ago she died at a very 
advanced age. 

It was now the pleasure of the great ambassador, 
as he tells us in his memoirs, to lay at times his gran- 
deur aside, and to seek out the scenes of his early 
misery and want. " What is it to me," he exclaims, 
'^that the Marquess of Londonderry has made an ap- 
pointment to meet me ; or that Mr Canning has 
called on me ; or that the Duke of Wellington wishes 
to confer with me on particular business; or that 
Lady Jersey has invited me to meet Earl Grey, Mr 



298 M. de Chateaubriand, 

Henry Brougham, and the other leaders of the Oppo- 
sition ! What are all these grand folks to me !" No ! 
his great pleasure, as he tells us, was to alight from 
his carriage at the corner of a street, to go on foot 
up the back lanes, where he had once lived ; to try 
and find out some face well known in days of yore, 
and to view again the places where he had once been 
the familiar of misery, and where he had shaken 
hands with want. Or, again, he would let his empty 
tilbury drive in the fashionable round of Hyde Park 
in the evening, while he himself would stroll under 
those beautiful trees in Kensington Gardens, where in 
his days of exile he used to meet his fellow-sufferers, 
the French priests, reciting their breviary — those trees 
under which he had indulged in many a reverie — 
under which he had breathed many a sigh for home 
—under which he had finished "Atala,'' and had 
composed " Rene." Or, again, it was sometimes his 
fancy at night, when his secretaries had gone to a 
ball, and he had given all his servants a holiday, to 
remain solitary in that large house in Portland Place, 
and with the house-key on the table, to sit down to 
write his memoirs, and trace back the scenes of his 
early childhood — those scenes we all love to recall ; 
for it is there our moral natures receive their first and 
abiding impress ! Surely we recognize in the moody 
ambassador the fantastic youth we once saw in the 
woods, and on the moors of Brittany. 

But events are now thickening in Europe. The 



The Spanish Revolution. 299 

clouds of confusion are gathering into black and tem- 
pestuous masses over the horizon of Spain. The 
Constitution of 1820, sprung out of a military revolt, 
I attempted to characterize on a former occasion. 
With its phantom of a mock, impotent royalty — with 
an aristocracy shut out from its due representation — 
a Church insulted and oppressed — the commons co- 
erced by a factious soldiery, and the tyranny of clubs 
— an irreligious and licentious press — that Constitu- 
tion, as it aped the follies and disorders, was inflicting 
the evils also of the French Constituent Assembly of 
1790. The Catholics and Royalists of Spain, form- 
ing the immense majority of her people, cordially 
sympathized with the insurgents of the northern pro- 
vinces, when they unfurled the banner of resistance to 
the anarchic tyranny, which had its seat in the capi- 
tal. In the name of religion, royalty, law, corporate 
rights, and ancient customs and provincial liberties, 
they offered a most energetic opposition to the revo- 
lutionary troops. But, inferior as they were in mili- 
tary discipline, and possessed of few pecuniary re- 
sources, how could these brave guerilla bands be a 
match for the regular forces of the Revolution'? 
After a desperate struggle, they were driven back on 
the French territory, and there disarmed. A pestilen- 
tial fever having about this time broken out at Bar- 
celona, and spread to other towns in the north of 
Spain, the French Government deemed it expedient 
to establish in its provinces bordering on the Pyrenees 



300 M, de Chateaubriand, 

a cordon sanitaire. At the same time an active cor- 
respondence was carried on between the Spanish 
clubs and the secret societies in France ; various 
attempts were made by the revolutionary emissaries 
of the former to debauch the fidelity of the French 
troops stationed on the frontier; and the doctrines, 
proceedings, machinations, and various outrages of 
the Spanish Cortes and clubs tended to revive the 
hopes, inflame the passions, and excite the emulation 
of the Jacobins of France. 

It was at this period the sovereigns of Europe re- 
solved to hold the Congress of Verona, in order to 
concert measures against a Revolution, which by its 
doctrines and examples so seriously compromised the 
peace of states, and the freedom of nations. Other 
important affairs were to engage the attention of the 
various plenipotentiaries and ministers there assem- 
bled, and to be submitted to their common delibera- 
tion. The French Cabinet deputed to that Congress 
four representatives : the Viscount, afterwards Duke 
Matthieu de Montmorency, then Minister for Foreign 
Affairs, the Count de la Feronnays, the Marquis de 
Caraman, and M. de Rayneval. The Congress was 
to be held in the autumn of 1822 ; and ever since the 
preceding month of May, Chateaubriand had been 
urgently soliciting M. de Villele and the Viscount de 
Montmorency, as well as other friends out of the 
Cabinet, to procure him the honour of being among 
the representatives of France at that august assembly 



His Mission to Verona, 301 

of sovereigns and statesmen. This honour he at last 
acquired through the influence, more especially, of 
the Duchess de Duras ; and the acquiescence of M. 
de Villele was now the more easily obtained, as (for 
reasons I shall presently state) he wished to use 
Chateaubriand as an instrument for thwarting the 
policy of his rival, Montmorency. 

It was in an evil hour, when misled by ambition, 
Chateaubriand solicited and obtained this boon. For 
though his embassy to Verona was the means of 
bringing him into the French Cabinet, and though 
during his short administration of eighteen months he 
gave proofs of rare ability, yet that administration fed 
to dissensions in the Royalist party — led to his quarrel 
with the prime minister, M. de Villele — led to his 
rupture with the party, of which he had been so long 
the ornament, and brought about disasters which 
embittered his subsequent life, as well as affected the 
well-being of the monarchy itself He should have 
rested satisfied with the important embassy at the 
British Court, which gave him a political influence next 
to that of a cabinet minister j where, too, the liberal 
emoluments might enable him to repair his dilapi- 
dated fortunes j and where functions, not too onerous, 
allowed him sufficient leisure for the cultivation of 
letters. Whenever important pubHc questions might 
come under discussion, he could always raise his voice 
in the Senate of his country ; a minister so generous 
and noble-minded as his friend Montmorency, would 



302 M, de Chateaubriand. 

have been sure to lend an ear to any useful sugges- 
tion he might make; and without any risk to his 
popularity, or collision with his colleagues, he might 
have exerted a salutary influence over the course of 
public affairs. He knew, too, that he was no favour- 
ite with Louis XVIII., who neither appreciated, as he 
ought, his noble character, nor relished his literary 
productions; and who once said, that a poet was not 
to be admitted into his councils. He knew well that, 
in case of any conflict with M. de Villele, the man of 
letters would surely be sacrificed to the skilful finan- 
cier and the able administrator. All these reasons 
should have made Chateaubriand decline rather than 
solicit the mission to Verona, and still more have 
withheld him from even seeming to supersede in the 
ministry the Viscount de Montmorency, so revered 
for his public and private virtues. 

As the summer advanced, the state of Spain became 
more alarming. An attempt of the Royal Guards to 
deliver the king from his thraldom miscarried; and 
his position was thus rendered more critical. The 
Spanish Royalists became more urgent in their de- 
mands for succour from their French brethren ; and 
the latter almost unanimously responded to their 
appeal. The Courts of Austria, Prussia, and Russia 
became every day more decided as to the necessity 
of an armed intervention in the affairs of Spain, and 
communicated their views on this matter to the 
Cabinet of the Tuileries, and to that of St James's. 



Dissensions in the French Cabinet. 303 

At this moment M. de Villele began to waver in his 
poHcy. This minister possessed a mind singularly 
lucid, and had great talents for finance, and for all 
the details of administration ; but he had not deep 
and comprehensive views of statesmanship, nor a 
heart glowing with zeal for the interests of religion. 
He felt somewhat uneasy as to the temper of the 
French troops when confronted with the forces of the 
Revolution, and he dreaded the effects of a war on 
the reviving finances of his country. This poHcy of 
hesitation was opposed by Matthieu de Montmorency, 
and a portion of the Cabinet, who insisted that the 
interests of Europe, and more especially of France 
and of Spain, demanded a prompt termination to the 
anarchy prevailing in the last-named distracted coun- 
try. The views of M. de Villele were supported by 
the Journal des Dehats ; but all the other organs of 
Royalist opinion defended the policy of M. de Mont- 
morency. 

It is with reluctance, and contrary to the principle 
I have ever laid down for myself, I advert to domestic 
history of a recent date. But I shall state such oc- 
currences only as are indissolubly connected with the 
biography I am sketching, and as are absolutely ne- 
cessary for elucidating European affairs. 

The British Government was decidedly opposed to 
any armed intervention in the afiairs of Spain ; and 
its pohcy was in this respect an exception to that of 
the other European Cabinets. 



304 M. de Chateaubriand. 

The position of our ministers was, indeed, a diffi- 
cult one. No British statesman in either of the two 
great poHtical parties dared to express an approval of 
the new Spanish Constitution. Yet, on the one hand, 
King Ferdinand VII., as I shewed on a former occa- 
sion, by his excessive severity towards the Liberals, 
(some of whom had rendered great services to their 
country in the War of Independence, and of whom 
others had been more misguided than ill-intentioned,) 
— King Ferdinand VII., I say, had alienated the sym- 
pathy of many friends of monarchy. On the other 
hand, when, not content with putting down the an- 
archic Cortes of 181 2, and annulling all its proceed- 
ings, he forbore to convoke the legitimate Cortes of 
the three estates, he evidently betrayed a want of dis- 
cernment, and acted against the advice of the wisest 
men in Spain, ecclesiastical and lay, and lost a noble 
opportunity for regenerating his countiy. Hence it 
was dreaded that his restoration would lead to the re- 
turn of the old Absolutism, which had inflicted so 
much evil on Spain ; and this was another difficulty 
that complicated the position of the British Govern- 
ment. Moreover, the suppression of monasteries flat- 
tered the vulgar Protestant prejudices ; and outrages 
on the Catholic clergy (though lamented by the better 
Protestants as proofs of an anti-Christian fanaticism) 
were in other quarters too often regarded as signs of 
approximation to the pure reformed creed. 

The absence of very general violence in the inci- 



Policy of the British Government. 305 

pient stages of this Revolution, (though examples of 
sweeping confiscations, judicial murders, and popular 
massacres were by no means wanting,) tended again 
to lull vulgar politicians into a false repose. The im- 
beciHty of this class of men ever looks for fearful 
catastrophes in the first or in the second act of the 
tragedy. But in the political^ as in the poetical drama, 
great sorrows and great crimes are the frtdts of the 
gradual growth of evil passions^ of the development of 
had characters^ and of the slow maturity of dark plots ^ 
and are therefore to be found not in the first^ hut in 
the last acts of the play. 

Again, the British ministers, at least some of them, 
wedded to the political routine of the eighteenth cen- 
tury, most unjustly suspected ambitious designs on the 
part of the French Court ; and feared that a French 
invasion of Spain, though sanctioned by a European 
Congress for European objects, and solicited by the 
very leaders of that people who had most strenuously 
resisted the arms of Napoleon, would yet lead to the 
territorial aggrandizement of France. 

It was with these feelings of anxiety and doubt the 
British Cabinet looked on the approaching Congress 
of Verona ; and no one felt the difiiculties of the situa- 
tion more keenly than the minister, the Marquess of 
Londonderry, who was about to be deputed to repre- 
sent England in that august assemblage of the sove- 
reigns and statesmen of Europe. 

At the end of September 1822, the French ambas- 

u 



3o6 M, de Chateaubriand. 

sador left London for Paris ; but on his arrival at that 
capital he found that M. de Montmorency had already 
quitted it for his destination. After a short stay, dur- 
ing which he conferred with M. de Villele on the 
policy he was to pursue, he continued his route to 
Verona. 

Meanwhile, after the tragic death of the Marquess 
of Londonderry, brought about under circumstances 
of mental alienation, the eloquent orator and distin- 
guished statesman, Mr George Canning, had suc- 
ceeded to the department of Foreign Affairs. The 
Duke of Wellington was now sent as British envoy to 
the Congress of Verona. The instructions, indeed, 
which the illustrious marshal bore had been penned 
by the late Marquess of Londonderry ; but Mr Can- 
ning, not content with upholding a system of neu- 
trality, evinced something more than an equivocal 
sympathy for the Revolution. This statesman now 
sadly disappointed the expectations of his early ad- 
mirers ; he turned his back on those great Gamaliels, 
Burke and Pitt, at whose feet he had sat in youth ; 
forgot those noble doctrines he had himself once pro- 
claimed ; and, instead of supporting the religious and 
enlightened Spaniards, who demanded the restoration 
of the monarchy and of the ancient Cortes, he threw 
round a Constitution, (which he himself acknowledged 
to be vicious,) the aegis of his diplomatic protection. 
Decorum forbids me to make any further comments 



Congress of Verona. 307 

on the policy then pursued by this statesman, and 
which has unfortunately left a permanent impress on 
the counsels of this empire. 

At Verona M. de Chateaubriand found the Em- 
peror of Austria, attended by Prince Metternich, and 
the AuHc Councillor, Gentz, the celebrated pubhcist, 
and translator and commentator of Burke's anti-revo- 
lutionary works. The King of Prussia was there, with 
his two brothers and two ministers. The Emperor of 
Russia was there too, accompanied by his prime 
minister and several marshals; while stars of lesser 
magnitude, like the King of Sardinia, the Duke of 
Modena, and the Duchess of Parma, attended as 
satelHtes On these greater luminaries. The King of 
France was represented, as before said, by his Minis- 
ter for Foreign Affairs, M. de Montmorency, and by 
four envoys in subordination to him, the Marquis de 
Caraman, the Count de la Feronnays, M. de Rayneval, 
and M. de Chateaubriand himself The Royalist 
Regency of Urgel in Catalonia sent also deputies to 
plead before this Congress the cause of their captive 
monarch, and of their oppressed country. 

The question of the suppression of the slave-trade, 
and of the putting down of piracy in the American seas, 
first engaged the attention of the Congress. But the 
main subject for deliberation was the Revolution in 
Spain. On the dangerous character of that Revolu- 
tion, and on the necessity of its suppression, no dis- 



3o8 M. de Chateaubriand, 

sentient voice was raised, except in one quarter. The 
British plenipotentiary, the Duke of Wellington, while 
he attempted not to justify it, protested against the 
armed intervention of any European Power to put it 
down. The Viscount de Montmorency presented an 
energetic note to the Congress, depicting in strong col- 
ours the perils with which this Revolution menaced all 
European states, and especially France, recommending 
to the sovereigns assembled a simultaneous withdrawal 
of their ambassadors from Madrid, and (in case the 
revolutionary Government refused to comply with 
their just demands) the active intervention of France 
in the aifairs of Spain, backed, if necessary, by the 
forces of the other Powers. This note was more de- 
cided in its tone than suited the temporizing policy of 
M. de Villele, who, since the departure of M. de Mont- 
morency from Paris, had been created President of 
the Council. M. de Chateaubriand, in his " History 
of the Congress of Verona,'^ complains that his col- 
league, M. de Montmorency, had not consulted him 
in the drawing up of this note. But, in the first place, 
as he was the Minister for Foreign Affairs, he was not 
obliged to do so ; and, secondly, Chateaubriand, ever 
since his arrival at Verona, had kept himself in a state 
of strange isolation from all his colleagues. This fact 
we know from a letter published in the journals by the 
eldest son of the Marquis de Caraman, who, in vindi- 
cation of his father, tauntingly pronounced by Cha- 
teaubriand in his posthumous memoirs as a valet of 



is Political Views. 309 

Prince Metternich's, found himself compelled to state 
the truth of the matter. The straightforward, single- 
minded policy of Montmorency stands (it must be 
confessed) in advantageous contrast with that of his 
literary colleague. The former looked to a war with 
the revolutionary Cortes as the means of serving the 
cause of religion, monarchy, and true freedom in 
Spain. But he knew well that a good, disinterested 
action would not go without its reward ; and that the 
war, if successful, (as there was every human proba- 
bility,) would insure to his sovereign a united, devoted 
army, consolidate the Royalist ministry, shed round 
the throne of the Bourbons a military prestige, and 
impart to the French Government a weight in the 
councils of Europe, which since the downfall of Napo- 
leon it had not possessed. Chateaubriand, on the 
other hand, declares that these interests of France 
were uppermost in his mind, and rose superior to every 
other consideration. He tells us that he looked upon 
the war with revolutionary Spain as the prelude to the 
acquisition by France of commercial advantages in 
South America, to the estabhshment of her ascendency 
in the East, and to the extension of her frontier to the 
Rhine. Had such ambitious, no less than visionary 
schemes been divined, the alliance of the several 
European Powers w^ould have been immediately 
broken up ; and possibly there would have been a 
declaration of hostilities on the part of Great Britain. 
These projects of Chateaubriand, as disclosed by him- 



3IO M, de Chateaubriand. 

self in his '^ History of the Congress of Verona," ren- 
der intelhgible a phrase he subsequently employed, as 
minister, in a despatch to the French ambassador in 
London. Writing in reply to Mr Canning, he says 
the intervention in Spain is "an enterprize at once 
quite French and quite European/' " How an enter- 
prize can be at once quite French and quite Euro- 
pean," justly retorted the British minister, in the House 
of Commons, " is something I am at a loss to under- 
stand." It was these arriere-pensees of political aggran- 
dizement for his country which led, I imagine, to M. 
de Chateaubriand's strange reserve at the Congress 
of Verona, and to the somewhat equivocal policy he 
pursued at this juncture. Mr Canning positively as- 
serted, in a despatch to our ambassador at Paris, that 
the Earl of Liverpool had inferred from the language 
of M. de Chateaubriand that he was averse to a French 
intervention in Spain. The same must have been the 
impression of M. de Villele ; for he fully expected that 
at Verona Chateaubriand would have checked the 
warlike ardour of his colleague, Montmorency. What 
was the sequel of this imbroglio we shall presently see. 
On the whole. Prince Metternich, a most competent 
authority in such matters, is known to have declared 
that Montmorency evinced greater diplomatic skill 
and knowledge at Verona, than his celebrated col- 
league. In diplomacy, as in the general business of 
life, an open, straightforward course is the most politic, 
as well as the most just. When once asked what was 



The Emperor Alexander. 311 

the secret of diplomatic success, the statesman I 
have just named replied, " Never to practise decep- 
tion/' 

The note of the French Minister for Foreign Affairs 
being approved of by all the plenipotentiaries, except 
the British, he hastened to return to Paris. He was 
most graciously received by Louis XVIII., who said 
to him, on his entering into the audience-chamber, " I 
am extremely satisfied with you, my cousin : I now 
create you Duke Matthieu de Montmorency." 

M. de Chateaubriand, and the other French envoys, 
remained three weeks longer at Verona. And it was 
during this time he entered into very cordial relations 
with the Emperor Alexander of Russia. His aliena- 
tion towards the Austrian Cabinet, which, without any 
proof, or rather against all evidence, he accused of 
being averse to the invasion of Spain by a French 
army, probably led him to cultivate these friendly 
relations with the Russian Czar. The character of 
Alexander, moreover, had much to attract a mind like 
M. de Chateaubriand's. Intellectual, generous, mag- 
nanimous, devout, this potentate had then a strong 
leaning to the Catholic Church, in whose communion 
Heaven at last vouchsafed him the grace of dying. 
He was then busy with the project of uniting the 
schismatical Greek Church of Russia with the Holy 
See. Had it pleased the Almighty to have prolonged 
his life, every portion of his vast empire, and every 
description of his subjects, including the noble, but 



312 M, de Chateaubriand, 

unhappy Poles, would have experienced the effects of 
his beneficent rule. 

In the meantime an active war was being waged 
by the Royalist press of France in behalf of an 
armed intervention in Spain. The Etoile^ afterwards 
the Gazette de France^ the special organ of M. de 
Montmorency, M. de Peyronnet, and some other 
members of the Cabinet, was loud in the war-cry. 
The Journal des Debats^ on the other hand, then a 
Catholic and monarchical journal, defended the tem- 
porizing policy of M. de Villele, and of some other 
ministers. The revolutionary press, in its various 
shades of opinion, denounced the war with the utmost 
vehemence. 

Shortly after the arrival of M. de Montmorency at 
Paris, a Cabinet Council was held, in which he read 
the note that had been. submitted to the Congress of 
Verona, and been approved by it. This note, ad- 
dressed to the French ambassador at Madrid, was to 
be simultaneously presented with the notes transmitted 
by the three great Powers, Austria, Prussia, and Russia, 
to their respective representatives at the Spanish Court. 
These despatches, varying in their language, stipulated 
the conditions the compliance with which could alone 
prevent the withdrawal of the ambassadors from Spain, 
or, in other words, the breaking out of hostilities. 
After M. de Montmorency had read his note, the 
President of the Coungil brought out one couched in 
much more moderate terms, and pointing to war as a 



M, de Montmorency. 313 

contingency more remote. A part of the Cabinet ap- 
proved of Montmorency's note ; a part supported that 
of M. de Villele's. The king gave his decision in fa- 
vour of the latter. Hereupon the Minister for Foreign 
Affairs rose, and declared that as the note he had read 
had received the approval of the Powers assembled at 
Verona, and as their plenipotentiaries had framed 
their despatches in unison with his own, he would 
conceive himself wanting in good faith, as well as in 
courtesy, to them, were he now to despatch to Madrid 
a document of a very different purport and tendency. 
From these considerations he felt bound in honour to 
tender the resignation of his office. The king, on 
his reiterating that resolution, replied that he would 
take the matter into consideration, and, if necessary, 
charge M. de Villele, ad inte^im^ with the portfolio of 
foreign affairs. M. de Montmorency continued, how- 
ever, to transact business with the corps diplomatique. 
The Duke of Wellington, on his return from Verona, 
having pressed with much urgency the mediation of 
our Court in the affairs of Spain, received from this 
minister a peremptory refusal in a diplomatic note, 
dated 6th September 1822. The next day the Moni- 
teur contained a royal ordinance, Vv^hereby the resig- 
nation of M. de Montmorency was formally accepted, 
and M. de Villele appointed Minister, ad interim^ for 
Foreign Affairs. The dismissal of this excellent states- 
man^' was a great blow to the Royalist party, and laid 
* It was my happiness to have been once mtroduced to this 



314 -^- d^ Ckateatibriand. 

the first germs of those dissensions which were after- 
wards to prove so fatal to the monarchy. 

In the meantime the Congress of Verona had 
broken up, and M. de Chateaubriand had arrived in 
the French capital. Rumour had been busy with his 
name, and had represented him as caballing with the 
prime minister against his friend M. de Montmorency, 
in order to succeed to his place. The public eye was 
now fixed upon him, as the dismissal of Montmorency 
had rendered the monarchical party in France more 
ardent than ever for the war. On M. de Villele's 
offering to Chateaubriand the Ministry of Foreign 
Affairs, he declined it, but with that arch coyness that 
only provokes further solicitation. He alleged his 
friendship for Montmorency, whom he was unwilling, 
even in appearance, to supplant in office ; and then 
he pointed to the strong feeling for war on the part of 
the RoyaHsts, which was likely to. embarrass the Ad- 
ministration. M. de Villele had then an interview 
with him, and overcame in a great degree his apparent 
repugnance to office. At last the prime minister took 
his excuses to the king; but Louis XVIII., like M. 
de Villele, saw through these flimsy excuses, and dis- 
cerned the secret anxiety of Chateaubriand for the 
vacant place. After hearing from the latter some of 

excellent man and distinguished statesman. A countenance 
more expressive of benevolence, and of elevation of sentiment, I 
never beheld. The impression he made on me has never been 
effaced from my mind. 



Made Minister for Foreign Affairs. 3 1 5 

his objections, his majesty briefly said, ^^ Accept the 
place; I command you." And the next day the 
Moniteur contained his nomination to the Ministry 
for Foreign Aflairs. Now had he reached the summit 
of his ambition. 

Chateaubriand, though ambitious and egotistical, 
was incapable of dissimulation \ yet it cannot be 
denied that both in London and at Verona, he had 
practised an over-refinement in his diplomacy. The 
Earl of LiverjDool on the one hand, and M. de Villele 
on the other, both thought, as we have seen, that he 
was averse to a war with the revolutionary Govern- 
ment of Spain ; and his succession to the vacant place 
of M. de Montmorency, at this juncture, produced the 
same impression on the French Royalists, and for a 
time diminished his popularity. From what has been 
stated, it is clear that he had been always for the 
armed intervention ; but that his conduct in all the 
negotiations which led to that great event, had not 
been of the same frank, direct, disinterested, single- 
minded character, which distinguished the bearing of 
the noble Montmorency. 

Once installed in oflice, M. de Chateaubriand dis- 
played great activity, as well as firmness of purpose. 
An animated interchange of notes ensued between 
himself and Mr Canning ; and it was interesting to 
see the brilliant passage of arms between two such 
distinguished men. Meantime the Royalist press be- 
came every day more vehement in its demand for 



3 1 6 M. de Chateaubriand, 

war ; and none blew the martial trump more loudly 
than the most eloquent writer of the day, the cele- 
brated Abbe de la Mennais. Already had the Great 
Powers, while M. de Villele was still hesitating, with- 
drawn, on the 13th December 1822, their ambassa- 
dors from Madrid. On the 12th day of the following 
January M. de Chateaubriand transmitted a despatch 
to the French ambassador at that capital, demanding 
a prompt and important change in the Spanish Con- 
stitution of 1820, and complaining of a recent viola- 
tion of the French territory. On the i8th day of the 
same month the minister despatches another note to 
the same envoy, bitterly remonstrating against the re- 
plies of the Spanish Ministry to the observations of 
the French Government, and bidding him demand his 
passports, and quit Spain with his whole legation. 

The prime minister, M. de Villele, was now, by the 
force of events, the remonstrances of the Great Con- 
tinental Powers, the pressure of Royahst opinion, and 
the genius of his new colleague, drawn into the war. 
His own good sense shewed him that the stability of 
his administration, as well as the moral and material 
interests of France, would be compromised by further 
delay. War was now decided on. On the 28th 
January 1823 the Chambers were opened by the king 
himself, in a hall of the Louvre. There was a very 
numerous attendance of peers and deputies ; and this 
the most important parliamentary session of the Resto- 
ration was ushered in by the enthusiastic acclamations 



The Royal Speech, 317 

with which the king and royal family were received, 
as well as by a brilliant assemblage of the rank, 
beauty, and civil and military glories of the French 
capital. 

The scene I can well imagine; for the following 
year I myself witnessed, at the triumphant close of 
the Spanish campaign, the opening of the French Par- 
liament by the king in that very hall. The infirm 
monarch w^as rolled in a chair into the great hall. 
After commencing his speech with some observations 
on the internal condition of France, his majesty, re- 
ferring to the war, which was now imminent, spoke as 
follows : — 

^'I have employed every effort to guarantee the 
safety of my subjects, and to preserve Spain from ex- 
treme misfortune. 

" The blindness with which all representations made 
at Madrid have been repelled leaves little hope for the 
preservation of peace. 

" I have ordered the recall of my minister. A hun- 
dred thousand Frenchmen, commanded by a prince of 
my family, — by him whom my heart delights to call 
my son, — are ready to march in invoking the God of 
St Lewis to preserve the throne of Spain to a descend- 
ant of Henry IV., to preserve that fine kingdom from 
ruin, and to reconcile it with Europe. It was for me 
to deliberate. I have done so maturely ; I have con- 
sulted the dignity of my crown — the honour and the 
safety of France.'^ 



3i8 M. de Chateaubriand. 

Prolonged and enthusiastic cries of " Vive le Roi!^^ 
followed on the close of the royal speech. 

The address to the Crown was first discussed in the 
Chamber of Peers, where the ministerial policy was 
approved by a large majority. When the discussion 
came on in the Chamber of Deputies, M. de Chateau- 
briand, though a peer, was, according to the French 
custom, obliged there to defend the policy of his Gov- 
ernment. This was a great trial for his oratory ; for 
the audience was considerably larger and more tumul- 
tuous, and the orators on both sides of the House 
more eloquent, than in the Chamber of Peers. Like 
most of the French orators in important parliamentary 
debates, he read his speech ; for it could not be ex- 
pected that men ascending the tribune at a late period 
of their lives could possess the gift of extemporaneous 
oratory. The speech was equal to the greatness of 
the occasion — it was the most effective Chateaubriand 
ever made ; and being well delivered, it produced an 
extraordinary impression on the Chamber and on the 
country. The orator shews the right of France to in- 
tervene in the affairs of Spain by the general testimony 
of publicists, and more especially by the doctrines and 
practice of the British Government, as manifest in the 
famous Declaration of Whitehall in 1793. He then 
points out the frequent violations of French territory, 
and the dangers thence incurred through the revolu- 
tionary troops of Spain. He dwells on the repeated 
attempts made by parties in Spain to debauch the 



His Speech in Favour of War, 319 

fidelity of the French army ; on the close relations 
between the secret societies of the Peninsula and 
those of France; and on some military revolts at- 
tempted in the latter country, after the example of the 
successful one in Cadiz. 

The orator then proceeds to trace the history and 
the character of the Spanish Revolution, and to shew 
the fatal influence it was calculated to exercise on his 
own country, then but slowly recovering from her 
moral and social maladies. 

Lastly, he vindicates the Congress of Verona from 
the aspersions of its enemies, and gives an account of 
the objects which the sovereigns proposed to them- 
selves, and of the spirit which animated them. He 
concludes with proving how the expedition was cal- 
culated to unite in the bonds of military brotherhood 
the various members of the army, whether they were 
originally adherents of the Bourbon or of the Im- 
perial dynasty. 

In this speech there was one passage which pro- 
duced an electrical effect on the Chamber. The ora- 
tor, alluding to the fact that the King of Spain had 
been already menaced with deposition, and that de- 
position would too surely lead to a bloody imitation 
of the frightful catastrophe of the 21st January 1793, 
proceeds to say : — ^^ Is not the intervention which 
prevents the evil more useful than the one which 
avenges it? Spain had a diplomatic agent at Paris 
at the period of the dreadful occurrence I advert to ; 



320 M. de Chateaubriand. 

but of what avail were his entreaties in behalf of his 
master's royal kinsman? What did that family-wit- 
ness do there % Assuredly, he was not needed to give 
evidence of a death which was known to earth and 
heaven ! Gentlemen, the trials of Charles I. and of 
Louis XVI. are already too many in the world. One 
juridical assassination more, and we shall establish by 
the authority of precedents a sort of prerogative of 
crime, and a code of jurisprudence for nations against 
kings !" This eloquent passage called forth a storm 
of applause, mingled with half-suppressed murmurs 
from the Left side. Such was the effect of the speech 
that the House at its close adjourned. 

In the spring of this year, 1823, the Duke d'An- 
gouleme, the nephew of the king, at the head of an 
army of one hundred thousand men, entered Spain. 
Before passing the frontier, he nominates a Spanish re- 
gency to act in the name of their king, and to assist the 
French commanders with their counsels. This army 
is preceded by a corps of Spanish Royalists. After 
dispersing a body of French insurgents, who had on 
the frontier allied themselves with the revolutionary 
troops of Spain, the prince advances with his army 
into the country. How different was his reception 
from the one which, fifteen years before, the great 
Napoleon had met with ! Everywhere he is hailed as 
a deliverer. The hamlets, villages, towns, and cities 
pour forth their population to greet him. The pea- 
sants bring provisions to his troops, and raise rustic 



Triumph of French Arms. 321 

arches on his way ; the citizens receive him with the 
loudest acclamations j while the different orders of 
clergy, the grandees and the hidalgos, the magistrates 
and the municipalities of cities present him congratu- 
latory addresses. The main army of the Revolution- 
ists, under Ballasteros, falls back ; but in the defiles 
of Catalonia the skilful Mina opposes for a time to the 
advance of the French troops an energetic resistance. 

Meanwhile the revolutionary Cortes, fleeing before 
the French, drag their unhappy monarch as a captive 
to the walls of Cadiz. The French prince pursues his 
triumphant march through Spain, from Pampeluna to 
the walls of that city. There a desperate resistance 
is made in that last asylum of the Revolution. The 
prince by his intrepid valour animates his soldiers, and 
at last captures the Trocadero, a fort right opposite 
Cadiz. He then demands the unconditional surren- 
der of the king. 

I should have said that, a few weeks previously, 
the Duke d'Angouleme, by an ordinance dated from 
Andujar, and countersigned by his civil secretary, 
M. de Martignac, had moderated the counsels of the 
Spanish regency, and restrained the vindictive passions 
of its partizans. So he proved himself as wise and 
humane in council, as he was valiant in the field. 

On the ist of October 1823 the revolutionary force 
surrenders to the French, and the King of Spain is 
restored to his full freedom. The liberated monarch 
in grateful joy embraces his generous cousin ; and a 

X 



322 M. de Chateaubriand. 

cry of jubilation is heard through the length and the 
breadth of the land. 

Such was the issue of this memorable campaign, 
which, when we consider its momentous objects and 
results, as well as the small amount of blood and 
treasure expended for their achievement, is almost un- 
precedented. All the results, indeed, and many of 
the most important ones, were not obtained ; for the 
work of social regeneration w^as not as easy in 1823, as 
it had been in 18 14. 



LECTURE III. 

LIFE, WRITINGS, AND TIMES OF M. DE CHATEAUBRIAND 

^ — continued, 

TN my last Lecture I brought you down to the trium- 
phant close of the French campaign, under the 
Duke d'Angouleme, in the Spanish Peninsula. 

This is the place to inquire, what was the policy 
recommended by the French Government to the 
monarch whom it had rescued from a degrading 
thraldom, and whom it had re-established on his 
throne % On this matter M. de Chateaubriand, in his 
" History of the Congress of Verona," has furnished 
us with authentic information. He tells us that he 
urged on King Ferdinand VII. and his ministers the 
necessity of a firm, but temperate policy — the grant- 
ing of a generous amnesty — the re-establishment of 
the ancient Cortes — and the recognition, under cer- 
tain conditions, of the independence of the new 
South American , states. These conditions were, as 
he affirms, the establishment of regular monarchical 



324 M. de Chateaubriand. 

governments in most of these states, with Spanish 
infantes at their head. Hereby the reconcihation 
between Spain and her revolted colonies would have 
been more easily brought about ; a commercial inter- 
course, most beneficial to both countries, would have 
been promoted ; the Church in those colonies would 
have preserved intact her spiritual authority and po- 
litical rights; order and freedom would have been 
there consolidated ; and the interests of the various 
races and classes composing the motley population 
of South America, would have been protected and 
advanced. 

Then, as regards the mother-country, what inesti- 
mable blessings would have flowed to her from the re- 
establishment of her ancient Cortes ! That task was 
now indeed, in 1823, from the extreme exasperation 
of parties, become more arduous than on the first 
liberation of the king in 18 14. That ancient con- 
stitution would, by calKng forth the energies of the 
nobles, have strengthened their position in society ; it 
would have opened a sphere to the activity of the 
middle classes, and so satisfied their legitimate aspira- 
tions; it would have insured to the clergy their due 
political influence, and so better protected their 
spiritual power ; it would have guaranteed the rights 
of all ranks, promoted their material w^ellbeing, and 
so consolidated at once authority and freedom. 

But, unfortunately, the wise counsels of M. de 
Chateaubriand and his colleagues were not attended 



Good Results of Intervention. 325 

to by the Spanish Government Measures of extreme 
severity were resorted to against the revolutionary 
party ; and the old Absolutism, without any modifica- 
tion, was retained. Still the king displayed more 
prudence and energy than in the six years preceding 
1820 ; a uniform system of policy was pursued ; and, 
as the Duke of Wellington acknowledged, the material 
prosperity of Spain was considerably advanced. Yet 
had those ancient Cortes been re-established, what 
misery would have been spared to that unfortunate 
land ! All the evils which followed on the death of 
Ferdinand in 1833, — the disastrous civil war between 
the adherents of Carlos and of Isabella — the triumph 
of revolutionary principles and revolutionary parties 
— the spoliation of the clergy — the persecution of 
religion — the spread of impiety, — all these calamities 
would have been happily avoided. We must, indeed, 
be thankful that, through the mercy of an all-gracious 
Providence, Spain should within the last twenty years 
have been gradually recovering from the severe wounds 
inflicted by her civil broils. 

M. Villemain, who was a decided partizan of the 
Duke Decazes, and was opposed to the intervention 
of his country in the affairs of Spain, and is much too 
severe in his censures on the government of King 
Ferdinand VI I. , is obliged "to admit that the mon- 
archical invasion of Spain thirty years ago was at- 
tended with complete success ; and that we may still 
maintain that, by arresting the ultimate excesses to 



326 M. de Chateaubriand. 

which the Spanish Revolution was hurrying, without 
destroying the principle of that Revolution, which we 
see still energizing, it exercised on the whole world 
an influence salutary and conservative."* 

But if such were the results of this campaign to the 
Spanish Peninsula, what influence had the success of 
the French arms on the internal government of France 
herself? Its first efl'ect was to suppress mutinous fac- 
tions in the army, to restore concord in its ranks, and 
render it loyal and devoted to the Bourbon dynasty. 
"Nothing," well observes Chateaubriand in the famous 
speech cited on a former occasion — "Nothing so 
closely knits together the hearts of men, as the fellow- 
ship of arms." 

Next, the prudent and successful conduct of the war 
raised the dignity of France, and, for the first time 
since the downfall of Napoleon, gave her a voice in 
the councils of Europe. 

Lastly, the overthrow of the Spanish Revolution 
checked Liberalism in her interior, and consolidated 
the new Royalist administration, which, as we have 
seen, had the year before seized the helm of govern- 
ment. 

"Whatever," says M. Villemain, "might be the 
causes of that rapid success, (of the French arms,) it 
produced a deep impression in all Europe ; and the 
French Government, which had hitherto regarded the 
first employment of the army in a war of opinion as 
* La Vie de Chateaubriand, p. 299. 



Modern Representative System. 327 

full of uncertainty and of danger, now could feel a 
great joy, and breath more at its ease."* 

In the autumn of 1823, M. de Chateaubriand pub- 
lished a pamphlet, shewing the advantages of sep- 
tennial parliaments, in order to give a certain stabiHty 
to the Constitution. And here is the fitting place to 
take a general review of his political system, and to 
give a short notice of his chief political writings and 
speeches. 

The political doctrines and aims of the party to 
which Chateaubriand belonged, I fully stated in my 
last Lecture. In that party he was particularly dis- 
tinguished by the stress he laid on the representative 
system, as the one alone suited to the wants and cir- 
cumstances of his country — alone calculated to recon- 
cile the claims of old and new France, and to insure 
the union of order and of freedom. 

Doubtless the modern representative system, feeble 
and defective copy, as it is, of the mediaeval States- 
Constitution, and of the more modern British Constitu- 
tion, possesses many decided advantages over the Ab- 
solutism which sprang up under the fostering care of 
Richeheu and of Louis XIV., and in various European 
countries became so prevalent during the eighteenth 
century. The control over the public expenditure 
possessed by the Parliament in this system — its co- 
operation in all legislative acts — the exemption of 
the subject from arbitrary arrests — the scope which it 
* La Vie de Chateaubriand, p. 339. 



328 M, de Chateaubriand, 

furnishes to the talents and the energy of the higher 
and the middle classes, — these are inestimable a:dvan- 
tages that cannot be too highly appreciated. Our 
author enlarges, with much talent, on the inviolability 
which the Charter insured to the Crown — on the 
hereditary character of the peerage, and on the ne- 
cessity of entails to give it stability — on the various 
elements Avhereof the Chamber of Deputies ought to 
be composed — on its relations to the ministry — on 
the principles that should regulate parliamentary elec- 
tions — on the liberty of the press, and the rest. But 
did he not overlook the shortcomings and the defects, 
the grave defects, in that system % Did he sufficiently 
understand its internal organism % Did he understand 
that of the modern British Constitution, or of its 
parent, the mediaeval monarchy of the three estates % 
In France, under the Restoration, the external 
forms of royalty, of aristocracy, and of the commons 
subsisted ; but how different was the internal consti- 
tution from that of the two other systems ! The free, 
municipal system of the cities, and of the rural dis- 
tricts, undermined in the eighteenth century, was 
virtually destroyed by the great Revolution. The 
commissioners of the Republic overawed the mayors 
and corporations of the cities in the exercise of their 
functions ; and under Napoleon I. the bureaucratic 
centralization attained to such gigantic proportions 
as were unknown to the ancient regime. This system 
was retained under the Restoration, and, with some 



Old and New Parliaments Compared, 329 

slight modifications, it exists at present. Hence, the 
Chambers had to defray the expenses, and the minis- 
ters chosen out of them had to exercise the patronage, 
of the whole administration of the country. 

The clergy had been despoiled by the Revolution 
of their ample revenues ; and, as a stipulated indem- 
nity, an annual stipend was now paid to them by the 
Government. The revolutionary torrent had swept 
away all the schools, colleges, and universities di- 
rected by the secular and regular clergy, as well as by 
the laity ; and a monstrous establishment, called the 
University, embracing every educational institute (ex- 
cept the clerical seminary) in the entire kingdom, 
was governed by state officials, and supported by an 
annual parliamentary aid. 

The Crown, too, had been robbed of its hereditary 
domains, and was now compelled to be a pensioner, 
on the bounty of its Parliament. 

In the States-Constitution the king could exercise 
his veto freely, and according to the dictates of his 
own conscience. But in this modern representative 
system the sovereign is nearly powerless, and must 
commit his conscience to the keeping of responsible 
ministers. 

Again, in the States-Constitution the clergy formed 
a separate order, whose concurrence was necessary 
to the passing of every law. But under the French 
Charter, and most of the other modern representative 
systems, the bishops sit in the Upper House, not in 



330 M. de Chateaubriand. 

right of their sees, but by virtue of royal nomination ; 
while to the second order of clergy no kind of par- 
liamentary representation is accorded. 

Thus under that States-Constitution, which in the 
Middle Ages, and for a considerable time after, pre- 
vailed in most European kingdoms, we saw a free 
municipal government, local franchises, and provin- 
cial parliaments ; well-endowed and self-governing 
colleges and universities ; an opulent clergy, adminis- 
tering its own property, and holding a high, command- 
ing position in the Senate. Lastly, we saw royalty, 
possessed of an independent patrimony, and freely 
exercising its prerogative, effectually control and 
counterbalance the other constituent members of the 
State. The same observations will in part apply to 
the modern British Constitution. 

Singular dilemma of the European nations ! The 
Revolution of 1789, with the only true instinct that 
breaks out through all its excesses and aberrations, 
has rendered the representative system a necessity; 
yet at the same time it has rendered, more especially 
in France, a sound parliamentary government im- 
practicable, or at least exceedingly difficult. Every 
successive failure is followed by fresh attempts at 
reconstruction. Penelope no sooner rips up her robe 
by night than with unwearied labour she weaves it 
again by day. And what inference are we hence to 
draw % Two things are, I think, apparent : first, that 
the need of representative government is something 



The French Charter. 331 

real and genuine; and next, that the form it has 
hitherto taken has been very defective. 

From what has been said, it will appear that the 
Constitutionalism of the nineteenth century makes as 
dangerous encroachments on the rights of the various 
orders of the State, as the Absolutism of the preced- 
ing age. Like its elder sister, it seeks a self-aggran- 
dizement, which is fatal to itself It invades the 
rights of the individual and of the family, of the com- 
mune and of the municipality, of the Church and of 
the school, of aristocracy and of the Crown. Thus 
in 1828 the French Chamber of Deputies, by de- 
manding, through the ministry it forced on the king, 
the suppression of ten Jesuit colleges, (which, with 
few exceptions, were the only Catholic institutes of edu- 
cation in the kiiigdom^ and by requiring a limited 
number of ecclesiastical students to be admitted into 
the seminaries, offered great violence to the con- 
science of the monarch, as well as of the clergy and 
of the whole Catholic population. These violent 
measures, as I have elsewhere shewn, cost many 
bitter pangs to the sovereign, who was forced to sanc- 
tion them j while at the same time they weakened the 
affections of French Catholics towards his throne, and 
disgusted them with the parliamentary regime. These 
feelings of mutual anxiety and distrust it was which, 
as I have in the Lecture alluded to endeavoured to 
prove, forced the reigning monarch to resort to the 
ordinances of July 1830, that modified the Constitu- 



332 M. de Chateattbriand. 

tion, and the success whereof was chiefly; marred by 
rashness and incapacity.'"' 

Again, the same Constitution, conducted on differ- 
ent principles by very different parties, met in 1848 
with a fate still more ignominious. Then in the year 
1849 the Roman ParHament offered violence to the 
feelings of its sacred ruler by striving to force him 
into an unjust war with Austria. In other words, not 
content with exercising a control over the pubhc ex- 
penditure, the Parliament wished to arrogate to itself 
the essential prerogatives bf the Crown. Hence the 
ruin that came upon it Hence the wisdom of M. 
Guizot's remark, that the Pope must not only be free 
from the coercion of foreign Powers, but from the 
domination of a Roman Parliament. A parliament 
properly regulated, would not, I think^ exert an un- 
due control over the sovereign Pontiff. Yet I am 
free to confess that his position is an exceptional one, 
and unlike that of any mere secular potentate.t 

Further, look at the Belgian Constitution as it has 
existed since 1830. There, although there is an ex- 
cellent municipal system, and much solid freedom is 
insured by the Constitution, and though the great bulk 
of the nation are devoted to the Catholic faith, yet is 
there an unhappy divorce between Church and State. 

* See Lectures on some Subjects of Ancient and Modern His- 
tory. Lecture VIII. 

f Provincial Parliaments are best suited to a state consti- 
tuted like the Roman. 



The States-Constitution. 333 

The latter not being the ally of religion, has naturally 
become its foe \ the civil magistrate often counteracts 
the efforts of the priest ; and the revolutionary party, 
using secret societies and a licentious press as their 
instruments, are robbing the Catholics little by little 
of their dear-bought rights. 

Thus, in one way or another, all these new-fangled 
constitutions have signally failed wherever they have 
been tried ; and their existence has been as brief as it 
was agitated. Their failure false sages have ascribed, 
not to the essential vices of their internal structure, but 
to the accidental defects of persons or of countries. 
But how is it that, in the Middle Ages, the Constitution 
of the three estates flourished amid all the varieties of 
national character, and amid the errors or vices of 
rulers, from Portugal to Norway '2 That Constitution, 
from the very cradle of the European states, had 
existed, — first, indeed, consisting only of the king and 
his baronial parHament of spiritual and temporal peers; 
and then, as the burgesses grew in wealth and im- 
portance, superadding in the thirteenth and fourteenth 
centuries, and in some cases even in the twelfth, a 
third estate, or, as we should say, a House of Com- 
mons. In Portugal that Constitution lasted (if we 
except the sixty years of Spanish domination) up to 
the commencement of the eighteenth century. In 
Spain it subsisted till the middle of the reign of 
Charles V. in Castile; in Catalonia and Valencia ta 
the commencement of the last century; in Navarre 



334 ^' d^ Chateaubriand. 

and the Biscayan provinces (though in a mutilated 
form) down to our own times. In France, though 
there this Constitution never struck the same vigorous 
roots as in some other countries, the States-General 
subsisted to the reign of Louis XIII. ; while in some 
of its provinces these institutions perpetuated a 
stunted growth down to the Revolution of 1789. In 
Brabant and Flanders they flourished in full vigour 
down to that dreadful crisis in European affairs. In 
Bavaria, and many of the minor states of Germany, 
the States-Constitution endured till the beginning of 
the eighteenth century; in Austria till the outbreak of 
the thirty years' war. In the Scandinavian kingdoms 
of Norway and Sweden this free Constitution, rudely 
assailed as it was by the storms of the Reformation, 
has been, with various fluctuations, preserved down to 
our times. On the other hand, in Denmark, as in 
Prussia, Protestantism established a government the 
most arbitrary. In England, Scotland, and Ireland, 
this free Constitution, which had been so flourishing 
in the Middle Ages, was violently convulsed by the 
doctrines of the Reformation, and by the civil wars 
which it led to. Under Henry VIII. and his daughter 
Elizabeth, the ecclesiastical element was deranged and 
displaced ; while, at the Revolution of 1688, the regal 
prerogative was mutilated and defaced; yet, on the 
whole, the solid foundations of mediaeval freedom were 
retained. This Constitution forms the intermediate 
link between the States-Constitution of the Middle 
Ages and the modern Representative system. 



The British Constitution, 335 

But this is not what Chateaubriand understood it 
to be. He once in early hfe wrote to a friend, " I am 
a Papist in rehgion, but an AngHcan in pohtics." And 
he really believed that the British Constitution, which, 
like the other old European monarchies, had grown 
up under the shelter of the Catholic Church, was 
actually transplanted to his own country by Louis 
XVIII. ! That Constitution, however, resembled the 
French Charter in nothing, save in the relations of the 
Crown to the Parliament. But in Great Britain, the 
Parliament, with which the Crown had to deal, was 
one where there existed a general homogeneity of 
feelings and interests between the two Houses'"' — where 
in the House of Commons ancient birth and landed 
property had very great influence, and where the com- 
mercial and professional classes were represented by 
men connected by territorial possessions and matri- 
monial ties with the high aristocracy. Had that 
aristocracy been, as in revolutionary France, despoiled 
of its wealth and its power ; had all its local influences 
been annihilated ; had the municipal corporations — 
the guardians of British freedom — been, as in the 
neighbouring country, crippled in their functions ; had 
a bureaucracy, fixed in London, managed the minutest 
affairs of the shires and towns ; had the Established 

* The advantages of this homogeneity were well understood 
by the profoundest, as well as the most eloquent, expositor of 
the British Constitution — Edmund Burke. When the regal and 
the clerical elements in that Constitution had been unduly de- 
pressed, how could the popular element be safely allowed to 
attain to a great expansion? 



336 M. de Chateaubriand, 

Church and the learned corporations, robbed of their 
property and their rights, been forced, amid jarring 
sects and hostile factions, to beg in the name of re- 
ligion and of education for an annual pittance from 
parliament ; — then, I have no hesitation in saying that 
the Constitution of 1688 would not have survived the 
reign of William IIL The empire would then have 
presented a frightful alternation of democratic tyrannies 
and of military usurpations. 

On the other hand, if the Restoration had bestowed 
on France, what the Royalists had claimed, a free 
communal and municipal system, which would not 
only have infused life into the provinces, but have 
trained up the people for the exercise of parlia- 
mentary government; if provincial parliaments had 
been convoked, where the clergy, the landed proprie- 
tors, whether noble or otherwise, and the burgesses of 
the towns should have deliberated on their local affairs ; 
if out of these the members for the Chamber of De- 
puties had been elected ; if the Church had then en- 
joyed the freedom which after the Revolution of 1848 
she obtained; if the maintenance of the clergy and of 
the public schools had been placed beyond the reach 
of a precarious annual parliamentary vote, and thus 
the occasion for dangerous conflicts between the 
different members of the legislature been avoided ; 
if the bishops had sat in the Upper House by virtue of 
their sees, and the second order of the clergy been 
represented in the Lower ; if their concurrence had 
been rendered necessary to the passing of those laws, 



Summary Remarks. 337 

at least, which affected rehgion ; if the ordinary sub- 
sidies could not have been refused except by con- 
siderable majorities of both Houses j — then perilous 
colhsions would have been avoided — coups d'etats 
would have been rendered unnecessary — France in 
the space of thirty years would not have been con- 
vulsed by three formidable revolutions — Europe would 
not have been shaken to its centre — civil liberty would 
not have suffered shipwreck — and the house of Bour- 
bon would have been still upon the French throne. 

These political considerations will not, I trust, be con- 
sidered irrelevant, and that for many reasons. First, 
They serve to illustrate the political views of M. de 
Chateaubriand; while (as far as my humble powers will 
allow me to make a suggestion) they offer on some points 
modifications of his system. Secondly, They prove 
that the soundest form of representative government 
sprang up under the influence of the Catholic Church, 
on whose constitution it was modelled ; and that this 
government was not confined to the Middle Ages, but 
was carried far down into modern times. Thirdly, 
They may convince the CathoHc nations o^ the Con- 
tinent, that they need not resort for models of legisla- 
tion to a foreign Protestant state, since in their own 
history are found all the types of the best representa- 
tive institutions. Fourthly, They explain the succes- 
sive failures of the modern Constitutional system in 
various countries, and especially in France, and shew 
that to charge that failure entirely on the pohcy pur- 
sued by Charles X. and his ministers, (as we shall see 



338 M, de Chateaubriand. 

was done by our author,) is neither just nor logical. 
Lastly^, These considerations may, I trust, tend to 
reconcile the differences between two political schools 
of French Catholics, — one which, on account of the 
successive failures of the Charter, inveighs against 
all parliamentary government in France ; and the 
other which, in despite of the warnings of experience, 
clings to that Charter in a form unmitigated and 
unmodified. 

Having now taken a general survey of the modern 
representative system, and stated the views of M. de 
Chateaubriand on the subject, I will proceed to char- 
acterize his political writings and speeches. The 
success which he attained to in this branch of com- 
position evinced the singular versatility of his genius. 
He displays great knowledge of affairs, is lucid in his 
statements, cogent in his reasonings, and (as usual) 
brilliant and fervid in style. M. Villemain observes, 
that he is one of the masters of the modern parhamen- 
tary tribune, though less so by his speeches than by 
his political writings. But the fact is, that the Cham- 
ber of Peers — a smaller and more fastidious assembly, 
and where the deliberations were carried on within 
closed doors — did not by any means afford the same 
scope to eloquence as the Chamber of Deputies. 
There, as minister, Chateaubriand had once or twice 
occasion to speak ; and, accordingly, it is not surpris- 
ing that his oratorical efforts were there the most effec- 
tive. I think, indeed, that his vocation was more to 



His Political Writings. 339 

eloquence than to romance and to poetry ; and that 
had he entered the Chamber of Deputies in early life, 
he would have become a most distinguished orator. 

His best speeches are those on the expedition to 
Spain in 1823, and on the administration of justice 
in ancient France. Of the former I spoke in the last 
Lecture ; in the latter we find a charming description 
of the manners and private life of the old French ma- 
gistrates. 

Chateaubriand's chief poKtical writings are the ^'Re- 
flections on the New Order of Things/' written in 
1814 j "The Report to Louis XVIIL, at Ghent, on 
the State of France," in 181 5; and the "Monarchy 
according to the Charter,'' published in the following 
year. To these must be added a number of political 
essays inserted in the bi-monthly journal, Le Conser- 
vateur, of which I spoke in the last lecture. 

All these writings throw much light on a most im- 
portant period of history ; they abound in sohd and 
useful observations, and display a great knowledge of 
mankind, and a keen insight into the true principles 
of government. Yet the sagacity of our author, united 
as it is with a briUiant imagination and a fine sensi- 
bility, never expands into the large, practical wisdom 
of a Burke, nor rises to the high philosophy of a 
Frederick Schlegel or a Gorres. 

It is now time to turn to the state of public affairs 
in France. 

At the successful conclusion of the war in Spain, 



340 M' de Chateaubriand, 

the Emperor of Russia, in testimony of his great satis- 
faction, sent to M. de Chateaubriand the Order of St 
Andrew, but paid no compHment to the President of 
the Council. Seeing that this omission was calcu- 
lated to breed an unpleasant feehng between himself 
and his colleague, M. de Chateaubriand immediately 
requested the Emperor Alexander to accord the same 
distinction to M. de Villele. From this time there 
sprang up between the two statesmen a certain spirit 
of jealousy, heightened as it was by the great diver- 
sity of their characters and tastes. 

Chateaubriand tells us in his memoirs, that he at- 
tended exclusively to the affairs of his own depart- 
ment, never meddled with those of any other, and 
took his soHtary walk to the Bois de Boulogne. This 
is a poetical way of saying, that at Paris he was isolat- 
ing himself from his colleagues, as the year before he 
had done at Verona. 

Two important measures now engaged the attention 
of the French Cabinet. M. de Villele wished to avail 
himself of the financial prosperity of France to reduce 
the interest of the national debt from five to three per 
cent. The next project, and closely connected with 
the first, was an indemnity of a milliard, or a thou- 
sand million francs, as a small indemnity for cruel 
losses to the plundered nobles of France. It would 
have been well (and Chateaubriand was of this opi- 
nion) if an act of most just reparation to the de- 
spoiled nobility had not been bound up with a mea- 



His Dismissal from Office, 341 

sure which, however fair in itself, yet involved serious 
losses to a numerous class of the community — the 
fundholders. 

When the bill for the reduction of the interest on 
the public debt came before the Chambers, the per- 
sonal friends of M. de Chateaubriand in both Houses 
of the Legislature voted against it. He himself re- 
mained perfectly silent during the discussion of the 
bill, and abstained from voting. On this occasion, 
too, the venerable Archbishop of Paris, Mgr. de 
Quelen, declared that, moved by the entreaties of many 
of the faithful of his arch-diocese, who had told him 
that the proposed measure would jeopardize the for- 
tunes of their families, he regretted he felt bound to 
oppose this ministerial project. The bill, however, 
after having by no large majority passed the Chamber 
of Deputies, was rejected in the Upper House. As 
that House was breaking up, M. de Chateaubriand 
went up to M. de Villele, and said to him, " Be as- 
sured, I stand or fall with you.'' The prime minister, 
as he tells us in his autobiography, made no reply, but 
gave him a look never to be forgotten. 

M. Guizot informs us in his memoirs that, on M. de 
Villele's entering into the king's cabinet the next day, 
Louis XVIII. said to him, " How shamefully Cha- 
teaubriand has tricked us ! Draw out immediately an 
ordinance to dismiss him from our Council. I will 
intrust you ad interim with the Portfolio of Foreign 
Affairs." The secretary, M. de Reauzan, received a 



342 M. de Chateaubriand. 

letter, addressed to M. de Chateaubriand, informing 
him that the king had no longer need of his services. 
The secretary was afraid to communicate this letter. 
And so the next day M. de Chateaubriand proceeded 
to a levee held by Monsieur, and which was to be fol- 
lowed by a Cabinet Council. On his arrival at the 
Tuileries he saw many of the courtiers looking on him 
askance, and that he was an object of unwonted 
curiosity. At length an official connected with the 
household of Monsieur came up to him, and said, 
" M. de Chateaubriand, did you not receive a note 
addressed to you last evening T^ "No,^' the minister 
replied. ^' Then, when you return home, you will find 
a note of great importance." It was then intimated 
to him, that orders had been received not to admit 
him that day to the Council Chamber. Chateaubriand 
having ordered his carriage for a much later hour, was 
now obliged to walk in his full court robes through 
some of the streets of Paris. We may well suppose 
how such an occurrence mortified the feehngs of one 
so susceptible. This he regarded for many years 
afterwards as not only an affront, but as a cruel out- 
rage. And such it would have been, had it been in- 
tended. But clearly the affront was not chargeable 
on the king or his prime minister, but solely on the 
misplaced timidity of a subordinate official, who failed 
to execute his orders. This explanation, though not 
perhaps in time, was made to M. de Chateaubriand ; 
and he ought to have been satisfied with it. But as 



The yournal des Debats. 343 

to the dismissal itself, I think it the most mistaken and 
the most ungenerous act in the whole history of the 
Restoration. I do not deny that Chateaubriand was 
moody and intractable j that a certain restless ambi- 
tion and morbid vanity rendered him a difficult col- 
league. But, as M. Guizot well observes, he was less 
formidable as a rival, than as an antagonist. Then, 
his high integrity and stainless honour, the eminent 
services he had rendered to the Church and the mo- 
narchy, the prestige of his name, his genius and elo- 
quence, that made him the ornament as well as the 
support of any administration, — all should have inter- 
dicted the abrupt dismission of so tried and trusted a 
servant of the Crown. 

M. Bertin de Vaux, the chief proprietor of the Jour- 
nal des Debats^ on hearing of the fall of his friend from 
power, waited on the prime minister, with whom also 
he was on terms of the greatest intimacy. ^' Lose no 
time,^' he said, " in procuring the nomination of M. 
de Chateaubriand to the embassy at Rome." **I dare 
not make such a proposal to the king," replied the 
minister. " Then remember," said M. Bertin de 
Vaux, '' that the Journal des Debats has overthrown 
two administrations, — that of M. Decazes, and that 
of the Duke de Richelieu." " It was," answered the 
minister, " because you espoused the cause of Royal- 
ism j but if you attack my administration, you must 
coalesce with the Revolution." 

M. de Villele miscalculated, indeed, the political 



344 ^' ^^ Chateaubriand. 

influence of the writers of the Debats ; but was right, 
on the other hand, in predicting that the course they 
threatened to take would lead to their alliance with 
the revolutionary party. 

The Debats at that period united the influence of 
the Lo7idon Quarterly Review with that of a very 
widely-circulated daily newspaper. Its literary de- 
partment was acknowledged to be the best in France, 
and its political articles were inferior to those of no 
other journal. Its emphatic adhesion to the Charter, 
and its strong advocacy of the liberty of the press, 
secured for it, independently of the Royalists, the 
support of a large portion of moderate Liberals. It 
now took up warmly the cause of the disgraced min- 
ister, and drew away from the administration a certain 
section of the Royalists. 

This seems the fitting place to take a review of the 
different elements which constituted this party, and 
of the dissensions which weakened it, and that ulti- 
mately brought about the overthrow of the Bourbon 
dynasty. 

The Royalist party, when its leader, M. de Villele, 
and his friends took oflice in 1822, was united in 
sentiment, and firm and compact in its organization. 
M. Guizot has said indeed, in his memoirs, that after 
a lapse of thirty years, the counter-revolution suddenly 
found itself in the possession of power, but without 
definite aims and plans, and disconcerted, as it were, 
by its very success. How unfounded is this assertion 



Sections of the Royalist Party, 345 

may be seen by the principles of the journal, Le 
Conservateur^ which I analyzed in my last Lecture, 
and which were in perfect conformity with all the 
doctrines proclaimed in the other writings and 
speeches of the Cote Droit throughout the Restora- 
tion. And that their plans were as definite as their 
doctrines were fixed, is proved, among other facts 
that might be alleged, by the expedition into Spain 
under the Duke d'Angouleme. 

The monarchical party was supported by the whole 
episcopate, by almost the entire body of the clergy ; 
by the ancient nobility, comprising the largest landed 
proprietors ; by a considerable proportion of the pro- 
fessional, the literary, and the mercantile classes ; by 
the peasants of the south and the west, as well as by 
a numerous body of Catholics of every social grade 
dispersed throughout the country. It is sad to think 
that through the mismanagement and the vacillating, 
temporizing policy of the prime minister on the one 
hand, and the impatience of ardent, intractable spirits 
on the other, this firm phalanx was so soon to be 
weakened by intestine divisions. The section of the 
RoyaHsts called the "Extreme Right" had for its 
leaders the Count de la Bourdonnaye and M. de la 
Lot, two able and eloquent men, who by their 
speeches and writings had rendered eminent services 
to the Church and the monarchy. The new ministry 
had not long been in power, however, when, incensed 
at the timid policy evinced by M. de Villele in regard 



346 M. de Chateaubriand. 

to the Revolution in Spain, these two leaders raised 
the standard of opposition. But as their opposition 
seemed as undefined as it was intemperate, they 
were suspected of ambition, and thus obtained little 
influence in the Chamber of Deputies. 

The next section of the Royahsts was feebly re- 
presented in Parliament, but was powerful in the 
press, and exerted considerable influence over pubHc 
opinion, and especially among the junior members of 
the clergy. This section was called the " Ecclesiasti- 
cal Opposition," and was headed by the then illustrious 
Abbe de la Mennais, the learned M. de St Victor, 
the Abbe Gerbet, now the distinguished Bishop of 
Perpignan, and the then young Count O'Mahony, a 
descendant of one of the faithful Irish who had 
accompanied King James II. in his exile, and who 
displayed the brilliant wit and chivalric spirit of 
the land of his fathers. This party demanded, like 
the bulk of Royalists, but with more tenacity and 
vehemence, the reform of the University, the liberty 
of education, the estabhshment of religious orders, 
the synodical freedom of the Church of France, the 
freedom of religious charity under certain legal con- 
ditions, restrictions on the exorbitant power of the 
Council of State in controlling the acts of the bishops, 
and the legal observance of the Sunday. Its mem- 
bers were noted, too, for the vigour with which they 
assailed the Gallican opinions, and which they had 
the merit of ultimately overthrowing. In their purely 



Sections of the Royalist Party. 347 

political opinions they were not so happy. They 
indulged in more than covert sneers at the Charter, 
pointed out, indeed, with great acuteness the weak 
points and the short-comings of the modern represen- 
tative system, but did not attempt to offer a soUd sub- 
stitute in its stead \ and so in this respect, their oppo- 
sition was purely negative. Their organ was first the 
Drapeau Blanc^ and then the Memorial Catholique. 

There was another very large section of Royalists, 
holding in the main the same doctrines in Church 
and State as the one just described, but which pur- 
sued a conciliatory course, and disapproved of any 
violent opposition to the ministry of M. de Villele. 
In the Chambers this party was headed by the great 
philosopher, the Viscount de Bonald, the Count de Mar- 
cellus, the Count de Castelbajac, the Duke Matthieu 
de Montmorency, and others. The special organ of 
this party was the daily journal, the Quotidienne^ after- 
wards the Union^ edited by M. Michaud, and his 
younger colleague, the excellent Laurentie, who still 
lives to honour French journalism. 

The other considerable section of Royalists was led 
by M. de Chateaubriand, M. Hyde de Neuville, and 
others, and was represented in the press by the Jour- 
nal des Debats^ of which I have before spoken. The 
chief writers in that journal were the proprietors, M. 
Bertin and M. Etienne de Vaux, the Abbe Feletz, and 
M. Salvandy. Its tone has been already described. 

There was still another fraction of the party that 



348 M, de Chateaubriand, 

must not be passed over in silence. This was com- 
posed of some of the old parliamentary families, or 
the descendants of the ancient magistrates, who, un- 
taught by all the crimes and calamities of the Revolu- 
tion, still, while belonging to the Catholic Church, re- 
tained the false traditions of the old ultra-Gallican 
party. A specimen of this class was the Count de 
Ferrand, the author of the "- Spirit of History,^' and 
who had been a councillor in the ancient Parliament 
of Paris. Several of the members of the Council of 
State and the judges of the courts of law belonged to 
this section, and, as we shall see, inflicted in the latter 
years of the Restoration great mischief on the Church 
and on the monarchy. I remember meeting one of 
this class in society, who, after I had described to his 
family the struggles the Catholics of these countries 
were then making for their emancipation, turned 
coolly round to his daughters, and said, in a half- 
sympathetic tone, " You see the Enghsh Government 
is afraid of Rome." Yet this was an estimable man, 
who had suffered much from the Revolution, but who 
had apparently forgotten that it was those very preju- 
dices against Rome which had given birth to the 
schismatical "civil constitution of the clergy," the 
rejection whereof had furnished the materialists and 
the atheists with a pretext for persecuting the Catholic 
Church, and then overthrowing all religion and all 
social order. But, happily, this was a comparatively 
small fraction of the Royalists. 



Sections of the Revolutionary Party, 349 

Such were the various sections of the great mon- 
archical party, and which it is necessary to bear in 
mind, in order to understand the history of the Resto- 
ration. Had these various elements remained united, 
the Revolution of July would never have occurred ; — 
the elder branch of the house of Bourbon would now 
have been seated on the throne. 

Outside of this party was that of the Left Centre 
and of the Doctrinaires. This faction had prevailed 
under the ministry of M. Decazes, and ruled during 
the whole reign of Louis Philippe. Without being 
precisely irreligious and revolutionary, it was opposed 
to the freedom of the Church and of education, and 
to the social influences of religion ; while it was the 
great stickler for the bureaucratic regime^ and, by 
flattering the revolutionary passions, served to pre- 
vent the consolidation of the throne, and of all sound 
freedom. M. Royer Collard and M. Casimir Perrier 
were the leaders, and Guizot, Jouffroi, and others the 
literary defenders of this party. 

The Left and the Extreme Left were led by orators 
of great talent, like General Foy, Benjamin Constant, 
and Manuel; and were represejited in the press by 
widely-circulated journals, like the Constitutiomiel^ the 
Courrier Fi^ancais^ the National^ and others. This 
party, more or less covertly, was ever assailing re- 
ligion, or her institutions, or her ministers; and, 
closely connected with secret societies, was turning 
against the Bourbons the very liberties they had con- 



350 M. de Chateaubriand, 

ceded. I speak of this party as it existed under the 
Restoration ; and I am happy to add that time and 
misfortune have wrought a happy change in its lead- 
ing members. This faction had its roots in the popu- 
lace of the great commercial and manufacturing cities, 
in the purchasers of the confiscated estates, in a large 
portion of the mercantile and professional classes, in 
the youth brought up in so many irreligious colleges, 
and in the surviving functionaries of the Republican 
and the Imperial times. 

In the presence of such various and formidable 
dangers, did not duty, did not reason, did not the in- 
stinct of self-preservation command close union to the 
Catholic and the monarchical party of France % How 
often, when quite a young man, I used to say to my 
Royahst friends, — men, in age, and experience, and 
knowledge, so far my superiors, — that the spirit of 
clique or coterie would destroy their party, and that 
the destruction of their party would involve that of the 
monarchy. I little thought that my warnings would 
one day be so fearfully realized. 

Strange to say, the French — a people so agreeable, 
so fascinating in social intercourse — are contentious, 
intractable in pohtical life. They cling to subordinate 
matters with the same tenacity as they cling to great 
principles; but, in political life, compromise on the 
former is often necessary to the security of the latter. 
Time, too, is a great element of political success ; but 



Cast of the French Mind, 351 

this the impatience of the French character will not 
deign to regard. 

But the cause of this aversion to compromise lies 
still deeper than in the impetuosity of the French 
character. It lies in the very constitution of the 
French mind. Comparing the different European 
nations, I should say that among the Germans the re- 
flective faculty predominates — among the English and 
the Spaniards, that of judgment prevails ; but among 
the French, generally speaking, it is the logical faculty 
which is pre-eminent. But that faculty is not the 
fitting instrument for the discussion and the manage- 
ment of political concerns. " History," admirably 
observes Frederick Schlegel, (and the remark will 
apply to politics,) — '^ History is the science of excep- 
tions." General principles are to be qualified by cir- 
cumstances, and modified by experience. But it is 
precisely this experience, and these circumstances, 
which logic in her abstract deductions overlooks. 
And hence, though it has enabled the French to 
obtain brilliant success in religious controversy, in 
metaphysics, in the mathematical and the natural 
sciences, it has not availed them so well in the con- 
duct of political afiairs. This fact is evinced in every 
period of their history. To all these considerations I 
must add the abnormal condition of a country con- 
vulsed by a frightful political tempest, like the Revolu- 
tion of 1 7 89. How difficult was it to erect a solid fabric 



352 M, de Chateaubriand. 

of government on a soil yet oscillating after the recent 
earthquake ! How difficult to rule a people divided 
by such a conflict of interests, such an antagonism of 
principles, and a large portion of whom were without 
the great bond that holds society together — the bond 
of religion ! 

Such was the state of parties in France when M. de 
Villele took the helm of government. A most able 
administrator — a financier of the first order — a ready 
and lucid speaker, this minister had not, however, 
profound and comprehensive views of statesmanship. 
At the conclusion of the war in Spain, the elections of 
1824 secured him an overwhelming majority in the 
Chamber of Deputies. I was present at the opening 
of that Parliament : I remember well there were not 
more than thirty members of the Left side, among 
whom was M. Benjamin Constant, with his long hair 
flowing down his shoulders after the fashion of the 
German students; and I well remember that their 
names, when called out, provoked general laughter. 
But partly through the mismanagement of the minister, 
partly through the faults of his Royalist opponents, 
that powerful majority, as I have said, gradually 
dwindled away. 

The sudden, discourteous dismissal of M. de Cha- 
teaubriand from the ministry, for which Louis XVIII. 
was even more to be blamed than the President of his 
Council, excited in the breast of the disgraced minister 
feelings of enmity which no explanation could mollify, 



The Royalist Opposition. 353 

and drove him, I am sorry to say, into a factious, 
violent opposition, that weakened not only the admin- 
istration, but the monarchy itself. 

The Abbe de la Mennais, for attacking the first 
article of the Episcopal Declaration of 1682, touching 
the Pope's deposing power, was dragged like a culprit 
before the bar of a low tribunal, — that of the Correc- 
tional Police, — and sentenced to a nominal fine of one 
hundred francs. However injudicious might have 
been the conduct of the Abbe de la Mennais in moot- 
ing a question that, as he confessed, had no practical 
relations to the present time, (and many of his best 
friends lamented the manner in which he had treated 
the subject;) yet this prosecution of a virtuous eccle- 
siastic, and of a most distinguished apologist of re- 
hgion, drew down on the Government very severe 
censures. This trial took place in the year 1825 ; and 
from this period the party headed by the abbe took 
up a more decided attitude of hostility towards the 
Royalist administration. 

A little later M. Michaud, a devoted partizan of the 
Bourbons, who from his attachment to the royal cause 
had, under the first Republic, suffered imprisonment, 
and was at this time the proprietor and chief editor of 
one of the leading monarchical journals. The Quoti- 
die7i7ie^ — M. Michaud, I say, was, for joining in a 
deputation from the French Academy to protest to the 
king against a certain measure on the press, deprived 
of his pension. 



354 -^^- ^^ Chateaubriand. 

Thus, in addition to the Extreme Right, led by the 
Count de la Bourdonnaye and M. de la Lot, three 
important sections of Royalists, composed of men 
of considerable weight, including the twp greatest 
writers of the day, were both in the Parliament and 
in the press arrayed against the ministry. The bulk 
of the clergy, especially the higher dignitaries, and 
the mass of country gentlemen, or as they are called 
in France, the gentilsho7nmes de province^ still clung 
to the minister. Hence, down to the elections of 
1827, he commanded a strong but waning majority 
in the Lower House ; while, in the Upper, the support 
he received became more precarious and fluctuating. 

From his secession from the ministry up to the 
Revolution of 1830, M. de Chateaubriand won, indeed, 
the applauses of a spurious Liberahsm ; but became, 
with the great majority of French Cathohcs, extremely 
unpopular. The great principjes in Church and State, 
which he had so long defended, were not indeed 
repudiated, but they were put into abeyance. During 
this period of stormy opposition he never spoke of the 
licentiousness of the press — of the spread of irreligious 
works — of the machinations of the secret societies — of 
the irreligion in the public colleges — of the desecration 
of the Sunday — of the laws hostile to the freedom of the 
Church. He insisted almost exclusively on the liberty 
^f the press, forgetting that licentiousness is its great- 
est bane. He reproached his former colleagues with re- 
establishing the censorship which, under the ministry 



Conduct of the Judges, 355 

of M. Decazes, they had condemned. But he forgot 
that the circumstances were quite altered. The judges 
of the Cour Royale, who had the cognizance of offences 
against the press, refused, as long as the Jesuits, in 
contravention of the iniquitous decree of 1773, were 
allowed to hold schools, — refused, I say, to condemn 
the author of any libel, however seditious or blasphe- 
mous. When we bear in mind that the Jesuit colleges 
were, with a few exceptions, the only institutes of lay 
Catholic education then in France, — and when we see 
the ministers of justice thus carried away by political 
or rehgious fanaticism, we must allow that, under the 
circumstances, the ministers were in a manner driven 
to resort to the censorship of the press. 

How much nobler was the conduct of the Duke 
Matthieu de Montmorency, who, though so cavaHerly 
deprived of his seat in the Cabinet, never withdrew 
his support from his rival's administration ! Again, 
how much more unselfish was the opposition of the 
Abbe de la Mennais, compared with that of his 
countryman of Bretagne ! How much higher the 
aims for which he struggled ! I grant that he was 
at times intemperate and injudicious in his opposition 
to the ministry of that day. I think that had he not 
broken with it, — had he been content to give concilia- 
tory advice to his former colleagues, — the great ends to 
which he devoted his life would have been sooner and 
more safely attained. It was not till after a protracted 
struggle of twenty-five years, and after two revolutions, 



356 M. de Chateaubriand. 

these great objects — the freedom of the Church, the 
freedom of education, the establishment of reUgious 
orders of men — were accompHshed ; and mainly, in- 
deed, by the disciples he had formed — the Count de 
Montalembert, the Pere Lacordaire, M. Berryer, and 
M. Laurentie. - 

On all these great matters Chateaubriand hence- 
forth observed the deepest silence. Even his defence 
of the liberty of the press, of which in the Journal des 
Debats he made a most unsparing use, seemed dictated 
as much by personal rancour, as by sincere conviction. 
At all events, his mode of defence now differed widely 
from that of his former years, and of his former col- 
leagues j and the very tone of his political writings was 
altered. So unpopular had he now become with the 
Catholics of France, that I well remember the Padre 
Ventura apologizing to his French friends for having 
in 1828 dedicated a philosophical work to him, while 
he was ambassador at Rome. Chateaubriand, in his 
memoirs, confesses that his opposition to the ministry 
of M. de Villele exceeded the bounds of moderation. 
After the Revolution of July, he had more than one 
qualm of conscience that he had been, against his wish, 
instrumental in bringing about that catastrophe. It is 
the general feeling of the French Royalists that, by his 
violent articles in the press against the administration, 
he brought the Court into those embarrassments which 
led to that Revolution ; and that thus he unintention- 
ally overturned the throne he had had so great a hand 



His Semi-Liberalism. 357 

in setting up. Though he had strong grounds of com- 
plaint against Louis XVIII. and his prime minister, 
yet his half alliance with Liberalism, amid all the perils 
that then encompassed the altar and the throne, was 
inexcusable. Hence, though he lived to regret the 
course he had at that time pursued, and though, after 
the Revolution of July, he evinced with a noble dis- 
interestedness his fealty to the house of Bourbon, he 
never recovered the confidence of the Royalist party. 
The Jour7tal des Debats^ which had followed him in 
his secession from the Right side, did not, like him, 
take up again the cause of the elder Bourbons, but 
became the organ of the Orleanists, and has remained 
to this day an insidious foe of the Cathohc Church. 

I am astonished that M. Guizot, who has within the 
last twenty years approximated so much to the Catho- 
lic Church, and, taught by experience, has abandoned 
so much of his early Liberalism, should have in his 
recent memoirs declared that it was not the lay Roy- 
alists that, under the Restoration, excited the distrust 
of the nation, but what he is pleased to call the Parti- 
pretre, the sacerdotal, or, as he sometimes calls it, the 
ultra-Catholic party, which by its excessive pretensions 
alarmed (in his cant phrase) " modern society." But 
for fourteen years the rights, which the Catholics and 
Royalists had vainly demanded under the Restoration 
and the Government of July, have been enjoyed ; and 
'^modern society" has not been thereby disturbed. 
The Imperial University has been reformed, though 



358 M. de Chateaubriand. 

not to the extent that might be desired. Numerous 
schools and colleges for the education of the laity have 
been founded by bishops, secular clergymen, Jesuits, 
Dominicans, Lazarists, and laymen, and, emancipated 
from the iron tutelage of the University, have diffused 
the blessings of religion, as well as of sound instruc- 
tion. While, under the Restoration, there were but a 
few Jesuits and Trappists in the kingdom, a number 
of religious orders of men have within the specified 
period been there established. Bishops can hold pro- 
vincial councils without molestation from the Govern- 
ment ; nor has any attempt been made by it, as was 
sometimes the case heretofore, to interfere with the 
teaching and the discipline of the seminaries. The 
only claims once put forth by Catholics, and not yet 
satisfied, are the abolition of civil marriages, and the 
legal observance of the Sunday. The latter object, 
however, the present emperor and his excellent con- 
sort have been striving to obtain by means of private 
associations. 

M. Guizot talks of the rights of conscience. He 
knows full well that they were rigidly respected under 
the Restoration. He alludes to the law of sacrilege, 
introduced in the year 1825, as one worthy only of the 
twelfth century. But is this a matter on which a Cal- 
vinist is a fair judge % What is the state of the case ? 
The religious feelings of French Catholics were cruelly 
outraged by frequent and systematic sacrileges, in 
which the sacred vessels were not only plundered, but 



Political Retrogression of France. 359 

their adorable contents scattered and profaned. If 
we grant that the punishment of death visited in most 
Cathohc countries on offences of this atrocious dye 
were, from the temper of France at that time, too 
severe, who will affirm that very strong penalties were 
not needed % 

The very converse of M. Guizot's statement is true. 
The religious demands of French Catholics have been 
nearly all satisfied j but, with the single exception of 
the indemnity to the emigrants, their political hopes 
and aspirations have been sadly frustrated. The two 
branches of the house of Bourbon are in exile ; the 
peerage is not yet constituted on a satisfactory basis ; 
the descent of landed property is most unsound j the 
liberty of the commune and of the municipality is 
most restricted; bureaucratic centralization is still 
paramount ; parliamentary power nearly prostrate j 
the political press all but silenced. But let us hope 
that the ecclesiastical liberty, which yet flourishes, 
may be the mother and the nurse of a sound political 
freedom. Let us not forget that military government 
is in the long run the weakest of all governments. 
^' Those who lean on the sword, will perish by the 
sword." 

After the elections of 1827, the Extreme Right in 
the Chamber of Deputies united with the Left, and M. 
de Villele and his colleagues succumbed to a hostile 
majority. The ministry and its Royalist opponents 
were guilty of mutual faults ; and it cannot be denied 



360 M, de Chateaubriand. 

that, from the loose, undefined powers of the pohce, 
some arbitrary measures are chargeable on that ad- 
ministration. Yet, on the whole, in despite of many 
shortcomings, M. de Villele was the most capable and 
best-intentioned minister the Restoration produced ; 
and the Dauphiness was right when she told Charles 
X., *^ Sire, when you abandoned M. de Villele, you de- 
scended one step from your throne/' In resigning 
office, this minister regretted that he had not decen- 
tralized the administration in France. 

The chief members of the new administration were 
M. de Martignac, a protege of the late prime minis- 
ter, M. Portalis, and the financier, M. Roy. The 
name of M. de Chateaubriand was placed on a list 
of candidates for office presented to the king. His 
majesty struck it out with indignation, saying, ^' M. 
Laffitte would be better." So obnoxious to the^Court 
had his recent conduct rendered M. de Chateaubriand ! 
He now was charged with the embassy to Rome — a 
sort of honourable exile, that relieved the ministry 
from the embarrassment of his presence. 

In the capital of the Christian world the new am- 
bassador was well received by his Holiness, Pope Leo 
XII. Here he displayed his wonted activity, caused 
excavations to be made in search of objects of ancient 
art, and raised a monument to his distinguished coun- 
tryman, Nicholas Poussin. In the conclave, which 
met on the death of the virtuous Pontiff, he evinced 
more anxiety to forward the political interests of 



The Ordinances ^1828. 361 

France, than the well-being of the Church ; and in the 
matter of the Papal election, sought to domineer over 
the prelates of his own country. The tone of his 
diplomatic correspondence, too, at this time with the 
French Government shewed, in matters of high mo- 
ment to the Church, a levity and an arrogance that 
were most painful, and which justly incensed the 
king. 

Meantime the ministry at home, in mean subser- 
vience to the irreligious Liberalism, had forced Charles 
X. to sign two fatal ordinances, that excited the gen- 
eral indignation of French Catholics, and called forth 
indignant remonstrances from all the bishops. The 
ordinances decreed, as has been said, the suppression 
of ten Jesuit colleges, (which were among the very few 
places of lay Catholic education,) as well as the arbi- 
trary limitation of clerical vocations. The anguish 
which the king suffered before he signed these ordi- 
nances, I have elsewhere described.'^ He convened at 
St Cloud a council of four or five prelates to sohcit 
their advice on the matter ; and they replied that, re- 
prehensible as these ordinances were, they might, in 
order to avoid greater dangers, be signed. To these 
ordinances the monarch then reluctantly affixed his 
name, but resolved on the first occasion to discard his 
obnoxious ministers. These facts I learned at the 
time from a private, but most authentic source. They 

* See Lectures on some Subjects of Ancient and Modern 
History. Lecture VIII. London : Dolman, 1858, 



362 M. de Chateaubriand. 

have never to my knowledge been published through 
any other channel. 

Meanwhile the French ambassador at Rome, 
hitherto the stanch champion of the Church, while 
such deadly wounds were being inflicted on religion 
and sound education, was silent and apparently ac- 
quiescent. 

At a magnificent ball, which at this time he gave in 
honour of the Russian princess, the Duchess Helena, 
a singular circumstance occurred, which throws some 
light on the state of his feelings at this period. 
He was standing at the head of the large room, and 
the ladies and gentlemen just after a dance were walk- 
ing round, when a young English lady, unknown to 
him, stepped forward and said, " M. de Chateaubriand, 
you are very unhappy;" and then she suddenly dis- 
appeared among the groups, and eluded the searching 
eyes of the ambassador. The fairy sylph had divined 
his thoughts, and told his secret. He was unhappy, 
and, I will add, he ought to have been unhappy ; for 
he had now forfeited the confidence of his king, and 
of the bulk of French CathoHcs, and must have been 
conscious that, through ambition and resentment, he 
had helped to bring in a ministry, which was now per- 
secuting the Church of France. 

The redeeming feature in the Martignac adminis- 
tration was its poHcy towards Greece. The deliverance 
of that country from the Turkish yoke was an object 
dear to the Catholics and Royalists of France ; and 



Emancipation of Greece. 363 

on that subject there was a perfect unanimity of 
opinion among all parties in that country. M. de 
Chateaubriand^ during his administration, had taken 
steps for the accomphshment of so great and salutary 
a measure ; and, since his secession from the ministry, 
had warmly advocated the cause of Greece. Various 
difficulties, raised by the rival pretensions of European 
cabinets, had hitherto retarded the settlement of this 
question. As the naval battle of Lepanto had, three 
centuries ago, first weakened the power of the Turk, 
so that of Navarino annihilated it. Six thousand 
French troops, with the concurrence of Europe, con- 
summated and insured the independence which the 
Greeks had won. And so those Greeks who by their 
schism and their religious dissensions had passed their 
necks under the Moslem yoke, who had so often by 
cruel treachery repelled the aUiance of the Latins, have 
at last owxd to them their final deliverance. And so 
those beautiful regions, hallowed by so many glorious 
recollections, sacred and profane, have been at last 
rescued from an ignoble, enervating, debasing des- 
potism, that had so long given them up to " misery, to 
barbarism, to depopulation, to famine, to pestilence, to 
all the evils which can afflict and degrade humanity." ''^ 
After the election of Pope Pius VIII., M. de Cha- 
teaubriand obtained leave of absence to return for a 
time to France. 

* These are the words of the Count de Maistre in his ^' Du 
Pape." 



LECTURE IV. 

LIFE, WRITINGS, AND TIMES OF M. DE CHATEAUBRIAND 

— continued, 

C\^ the arrival of M. de Chateaubriand at Paris, he 
had an interview with the king, but received no 
encouragement, either from his majesty or from the 
ministers, to join the administration. Two of the 
ministers indeed, including his personal friend, M. 
Hyde de Neuville, urged this step, but it met with 
no support from their colleagues. M. de Chateau- 
briand then repaired to the Pyrenees to take the 
waters for the benefit of his health. 

It was on a fine summer evening, while he was 
strolling with some friends in the beautiful P3n-enean 
valley of Cauterets, he received the intelligence that 
the Martignac ministry had been dismissed, and that 
a new administration, of which the Prince de Polignac 
and the Count de la Bourdonnaye were the chief 
members, had just been formed. The ordinance 
which appointed the new ministers was dated the 
8th August 1829. The intelHgence came on him 
more unexpectedly than it did on many others. He 
immediately started from the Pyrenees; but when 



His Interview with Prince Polignac. 365 

his carriage turned on the road to Paris, instead of 
towards the Alps, he tells us in his memoirs that his 
eyes filled with tears. He saw the new perils which 
encompassed the monarchy; and he saw, also, that 
for a second time he was to sever old ties of friend- 
ship. As he proceeded slowly on to Paris, his mind 
was filled with the most gloomy forebodings as to the 
fate of his king and country. On his arrival he 
found pubhc opinion extremely agitated. He ad- 
dressed a note to Prince Polignac, saying that he 
solicited an audience of the king in order to resign 
his embassy, and to express to his majesty his opinion 
on the state of the country. He received a most 
friendly letter -from the prince, naming the day and 
hour at which he would receive him. The two had 
long been united in the bonds of the closest friend- 
ship; and the interview was, in more than one re- 
spect, of a most painful kind. Prince Polignac on 
this occasion testified the warmest regard for his 
friend; and entreated him, by all that was most 
sacred, to retain his post of ambassador at the Papal 
Court. Chateaubriand admits in his memoirs, that he 
was embarrassed what reply to make to the entreaties 
of his friend. He could only urge the unpopularity 
of the new ministry, and express a fear that it enter- 
tained designs unfavourable to the Constitution. 

It is to be lamented that Chateaubriand did not 
now strive to unite the scattered elements of the 
Royahst party, to strengthen the administration by 



366 M. de Chateaubriand. 



joining it, or at least, by retaining the embassy at 
Rome, to hold a sort of neutral position, and so 
exert influence enough to prevent rash and imprudent 
measures. But the fact was, that his four years' 
opposition had driven him further off than he was 
aware from his old poUtical principles, and old po- 
litical connexions. As he persisted in tendering his 
resignation, the king declined to accord the audi- 
ence he demanded. 

A few words must now be said of the new ministry, 
that had just come into power. Its chief, the Prince 
de Polignac, whom I have had the honour of meeting 
in society, and some of whose friends I well knew, 
was a nobleman of great worth and piety, elegant per- 
son and manners, a graceful fluency in debate, great 
self-devotion to the royal cause, for which he had 
from his youth up incurred great risks, and possessed 
of talents most respectable, but not of the first order. 

The Count de la Bourdonnaye, the leader of the 
Extreme Right, has been already described. He was 
more remarkable for eloquence than for wisdom, but 
had of late years moderated the ardour of a too im- 
petuous zeal. He disappointed the expectations of 
the king and of his friends, proposed no plans to the 
Cabinet, and seemed to be without a definite line of 
policy. By his stormy opposition he had much con- 
tributed to the overthrow of M. de Villele's adminis- 
tration, and now seemed at a loss what system to 
substitute for the one he had rejected ; thus realizing 



The Polignac Ministry, 367 

the old proverb, that "great talkers are little doers." 
After the lapse of three months, he tendered his 
resignation. 

The Minister of Finance was M. de Chabrol, a 
statesman remarkable for prudence and capacity. 

M. de Peyronnet, the Keeper of the Seals, was an 
eminent orator, distinguished as well for the boldness 
of his character, as for the vigour of his mind. 

Such were the chief members of the new Cabinet. 

It had to encounter a very stormy opposition in 
the press, and was sure of defeat in the Chamber of 
Deputies. 

It was not until the 2d of March 1830 the king, 
Charles X., opened the Parliament. He announced 
the happy termination of the war in Greece, and the 
emancipation of her people from the Turkish yoke. 
He declared his intention of making war on the Dey 
of Algiers, and chastising the insolence of that pirate- 
chief — a war that was to be attended with such event- 
ful consequences, religious and poHtical. 

After stating his desire to see France enjoy in 
peace the institutions, whose benefits he was resolved 
to insure her, the monarch used these words : " The 
Charter .has placed the public liberties under the 
safeguard of my regal rights. Those rights are 
sacred. My duty to my people is to transmit them 
intact to my successors. Peers of France, Deputies 
of Departments, I doubt not of your concurrence to 
work the good I wish to do. You will repel with 



368 M. de Chateaubriand. 

contempt the perfidious insinuations which malevo- 
lence seeks to propagate. If culpable intrigues 
should raise up against my Government obstacles, 
which I do not wish to anticipate, I would find the 
power of overcoming them in my resolution to main- 
tain public tranquillity, in the just confidence of 
Frenchmen, and in the love which they bear to their 
king/^ 

A v/arm debate in the Chamber of Deputies ensued 
on the address to the Crown. In this parliamentary 
debate M. Berry er made his debut ^ and for the first 
time displayed those great oratorical powers which 
had already won for him such high distinction at the 
bar. An address contrary to the views of ministers 
was passed. The votes were 221 for it, and 181 
against it. 

The king received the deputation bearing the 
address, and expressing the regret he felt at the 
course the Chamber of Deputies was pursuing, de- 
clared that the interest of his people forbade him to 
deviate from his unalterable resolves. 

The Chambers were prorogued. In that interval 
many efforts were made by various parties to bring 
about a modification of the ministry, and to restore 
union between the Crown and the Parliament. M. 
de Villele had two interviews with the king, and 
strongly deprecated any violent or extra-legal mea- 
sures. But even M. de Villele, had he returned to 
power, could not have commanded a majority in the 



The Conquest of Algiers, 369 

Chamber of Deputies, nor in any one that was, in 
the then temper of the pubhc mind, likely to be 
elected. In the Council, M. de Chabrol held the 
same language of good sense and moderation ; and 
he was supported by another minister, who like him 
strongly spoke against a dissolution of the existing 
Chamber of Deputies. 

Meantime the brilliant successes of General Bour- 
mont and of his army before Algiers had inflicted a 
second humiliation on the Moslem power, destroyed 
a nest of pirates, delivered many a hapless Christian 
from bondage, annexed a new colony to France, and 
in a region which Christianity had once so fructified, 
and civilization so richly adorned, opened a wide field 
to missionary zeal and commercial enterprize. 

Trusting to the influence of this happy event on 
the public mind, the king dissolved the Chamber of 
Deputies. But, unhappily, out of four hundred and 
twenty-eight representatives, two hundred and seventy 
were re-elected adverse to the Government. Here- 
upon the king resolved in his own mind to resort to a 
coup d^etat. The Russian ambassador, M. Pozzo di 
Borgo, paid one day a visit to the Palace of the 
Tuileries, and found King Charles X. deeply meditat- 
ing on the fourteenth article of the Charter, whereby, 
in certain extreme cases, the sovereign had the power 
to suspend the Constitution. The wily ambassador 
divined the purpose of the king. At length appeared 

the ordinances of July 1830, whereby the censorship 

2 A 



370 -^- de Chateaubriand. 

on the periodical press was restored, the late elections 
were quashed, and a new electoral law was promul- 
gated, which was calculated to insure to landed pro- 
perty a decided preponderance in the Chamber of 
Deputies. 

Now occur three questions. First, was the monarch 
justified in issuing these ordinances? Secondly, was' 
it prudent to issue them? And thirdly, were the 
means for carrying them out judiciously chosen % 

Let us examine this matter with the same judicial 
calm, as if the event had occurred three hundred 
years ago. 

Firstly, it is true that the fourteenth article of the 
Charter gave to the king the right of suspending the 
Constitution in extreme cases. We saw in the last 
lecture that the conscience of the king had been 
grievously wounded by the uncatholic ordinances of 
August 1828, which he had been forced by his 
ministers and the Parliament to issue — ordinances 
which had called forth the indignant remonstrances 
of the whole French episcopate, and had shocked the 
feelings of Catholic France. I shewed how in the 
old States-Constitution such a moral coercion on the 
conscience of royalty could scarcely have occurred — 
how the rights of all classes and descriptions of men 
were there secured — and dangerous collisions between 
the constituent bodies of the State thus avoided. 

In 1830 Charles X. expected from the new Parlia- 
ment, and the new ministry it was likely to force 



The July Ordinances, 371 

upon him, the same moral coercion, and consequently 
the same anguish of conscience, which he had suffered 
in 1828. Of course those who think that royalty- 
is a mere sign-post, on which what is called a respons- 
ible minister and a parhamentary majority may fix 
up any decrees, however wicked or impious ; those of 
course will laugh to scorn all royal scruples, for they 
apparently deny to royalty all conscience, and even 
consciousness. But surely this is not the sentiment 
of the Catholic Church, when she anoints the king, 
and exacts from him such solemn promises to protect 
her rights and the rights of his subjects, and to rule 
according to law, and equity, and ancient customs. 

There are cases where the Church bids a monarch 
mount the scaffold, rather than affix his name to 
an unjust or unchristian decree. The virtuous Louis 
XVI., though surrounded by sanguinary mobs, and 
therefore exempt from personal responsibility, never 
forgave himself for having sanctioned with his royal 
signature the schismatical act, called the "Civil 
Constitution of the Clergy." Still, as no aggression, 
either on the Church or on the essential prerogatives 
of the Crown, had yet been made by the new Parlia- 
ment, such an extreme measure as a modification of 
the Constitution by a royal edict seems scarcely to be 
justified. But, secondly, were these ordinances of 
July prudent % Certainly not, in my opinion. The 
parliamentary aggression of 1828 was already past; 
and before he resorted to such an extreme act as the 



372 M. de Chateaubriand. 

suspension of the Constitution, the monarch should 
have waited for fresh violent inroads on his rights. 
There were, besides, many circumstances that com- 
manded this prudential course. First, many of the 
ablest and most experienced statesmen of the Royalist 
party deprecated, as we have seen, any extra-legal or 
violent measures. Secondly, the monarchical and 
Catholic party was at this time much divided and 
dispirited, or (to use a military phrase,) much de- 
moralized. And thirdly, if the sovereign did resort 
to any extraordinary measure, it should have been for 
the purpose of enlarging, rather than of restricting 
the electoral franchise, for the purpose of emancipat- 
ing the Church and public education from the bond- 
age under which they still laboured, and by abolishing 
bureaucratic centralization, restoring their long-lost 
freedom to the commune and the municipality. 

The public, and especially the British public, are 
not aware of the dark plots then formed for the over- 
throw not only of the Monarchy, but of all society, 
and of religion itself, and which eighteen years after- 
wards were on the point of attaining such disastrous 
success. 

Then as to the third question relative to the 
manner in which the royal ordinances of July 1830 
were carried out, there is but one opinion as to the 
signal incapacity displayed throughout the whole 
transaction. First, the capital error was committed 
of not awaiting the return of General Bourmont and 



The July Revolution. 373 

of his victorious army from Algiers. Then the absence 
of the king at this fearful crisis on a hunting party at 
Fontainebleau— the charging the prime minister, a 
civilian, with the functions of a war minister ad 
interim — the want of an adequate commissariat for 
the troops engaged — and many other circumstances, 
which it is needless to mention, — all these were 
fearful mistakes. 

The sequel of the sad story is too well known. 
Not only France, but Europe feels to this day the 
baneful effects of that Revolution. Thus much only 
will I say, that those rich bankers and merchants, 
who on those three days of July gave away money to 
the workmen of St Antoine to rise against their legiti- 
mate sovereign, would now, in order to obtain the 
blessings of legal freedom and of stable prosperity, 
which they enjoyed under the Restoration, be ready 
to surrender half their fortunes. 

Some of the literary men who then took an active 
part against the Church and the Monarchy are now 
sincere Catholics. Such is the distinguished writer 
and philosopher, M. Victor Cousin ; such, it is now 
authoritatively stated, that former type of the Bourgeois 
Voltairianism, M. Thiers. And the political, and even 
religious tone of M. Guizot's recent writings is very 
different from that which marked his productions 
thirty years ago. Legitimists and Orleanists now act 
together in order to advance the interests of religion, 
and to promote good government ; and even on the 



374 ^' ^^ Chateaubriand. 

dynastic question, many Orleanists are disposed to 
unite with their former antagonists. And as regards 
the RoyaHsts themselves, the discussions and the 
experience of so many years have more and more 
strongly impressed on all their leaders the absolute 
necessity of representative government. The intem- 
perate attacks of a noted publicist on parliamentary 
institutions, have met with no countenance from that 
quarter. 

But to return to the Revolution of July. M. de 
Chateaubriand hurried from Dieppe, where he had 
le,arned the news of the promulgation of the ordi- 
nances, and arrived at his house on Thursday the 
28th July 1830. He found Madame de Chateau- 
briand in the greatest terror, the inmates of the infir- 
mary she had founded exposed to danger, and the con- 
tiguous house of " foreign missions " menaced by the 
workmen with pillage, — a threat which on the follow- 
ing night they executed. The next day he addresses 
a letter to the king, which is taken by M. de Givre, 
who with great difficulty makes his way to St Cloud. 
The Duke de Duras, in the name of the king, informs 
M. de Givre that the ordinances had been revoked, 
and that the Duke de Mortemart had just been 
named president of a new administration, and that 
M. de Chateaubriand was to come to an understand- 
ing with him. M. de Givre could not return till 
nightfall on the 29th; but then victory was on 
the side of the insurgents. In this fearful crisis 



His Self-devotion in this Crisis, 375 

the Court displayed a lamentable want of energy. 
Chateaubriand should have been himself summoned 
to St Cloud, and not handed over in this way to a 
minister whom he knew not where to find. 

The next day he proceeds to the Chamber of 
Peers in the Palace of the Luxemburg, On passing 
by a newly-opened grave, where a priest was saying 
prayers, he uncovered his head and made the sign of 
the cross, and was immediately recognized by some 
young men, who cried out, " Long live the defender 
of the freedom of the press ! Long live the Charter ! " 
"Yes, gentlemen," cried he; "long live the Charter, 
but long live the king also ! " The young men bore 
him on their shoulders to the great staircase in the 
Palace of the Luxemburg, and there left him. In 
the hall he meets the Duke de Mortemart, and com- 
municates to him the royal message he has just re- 
ceived. Both are filled with profound discouragement, 
when they see the small attendance of peers. At 
this moment General Sebastiani, witPi four commis- 
sioners from the Chamber of Deputies, enters the 
Palace of the Luxemburg, and declares that that 
Chamber regards the new ordinances touching the 
formation of a new ministry as null and void ; but 
respects them as far as they make the Duke of Or- 
leans Lieutenant-General of the kingdom. Hereupon 
M. de Chateaubriand rose and uttered these words : 
"I maintain, my lords, that nothing is lost; and 
that we can accept the ordinances. The question to 



2^"] 6 M, de Chateaubriand. 

be considered is not whether there be danger or not, 
but whether we be bound to observe the oaths we 
have taken to that king, of whom we hold our digni- 
ties, and many among us their fortunes. His ma- 
jesty, in withdrawing the ordinances of the 25th 
instant, has done all that he ought to have done. 
Let us in our turn do what is incumbent on us, and 
give to France an example of honour and of loyalty. 
Let us hinder her from falling into anarchic combi- 
nations ruinous to her peace, her solid interests, and 
her liberty. The danger vanishes when we dare to 
look it in the face.'' 

Before leaving the soil of France, Charles X. had 
abdicated the throne ; and the dauphin, the Duke 
d'Angouleme, had renounced all claims to the crown 
in favour of his nephew, the Duke de Bordeaux, still 
a minor. After vainly attempting to secure the re- 
cognition of this young prince under the title of 
Henry V., and not succeeding in placing his rights 
under the guardianship of the Duke of Orleans, Cha- 
teaubriand declines to take the oath of allegiance to 
the government of Louis Philippe, retires from the 
Chamber of Peers, and gives up his peerage, his title 
of Minister of State, and even his pension. Here- 
tires again into private life, and with little fortune, has, 
at the age of sixty-two, to begin, as it were, life anew. 

He still, however, warmly interests himself in be- 
half of that dynasty, to whose cause he had devoted 
the energies of his life. With the view of aiding the 



His ''Etudes Historiques!' 377 

ex-king with his counsels, he undertakes several jour- 
neys into Austria. 

In 1832 he received from the Duchess de Berri 
twelve thousand francs for the rehef of the poor of 
Paris during the dreadful visitation of the cholera. 
He offered the sum to the Prefect of the Seine for 
distribution ; but he having decUned the commission, 
M. de Chateaubriand intrusted the sum to the Arch- 
bishop of Paris. For this act he was suddenly ar- 
rested, and confined for fourteen days in the house of 
the Prefect of Pohce. 

The next year he wrote a memorial on the cap- 
tivity of the Duchess de Berri ; and for this memorial 
he was prosecuted, but acquitted. 

Meanwhile, disappointed and disgusted with politi- 
cal life, he sought solace from those Muses, who had 
so often in his hours of affliction come to his aid. 

He had long been engaged on a history of France. 
He now for eighteen months devoted himself with the 
greatest diligence to the prosecution of this undertak- 
ing, in which he reviewed many subjects that had 
occupied his attention from youth. The introductory 
part appeared in 1831, and the remaining volumes, 
containing fragrnents of French history, saw the light 
in the year 1832. The work was entitled "Etudes 
Historiques,^' in 4 vols. 8vo. Portions only of the 
book have I read, and am therefore incompetent to 
pronounce a judgment on the whole. The work it- 
self is very fragmentary, and is also unequal in its 



378 M, de Chateaubriand. 

parts. It is allowed to display considerable research ; 
but the haste with which it was composed prevented, 
of course, the sifting of materials, the weighing of 
authorities, and the general finish of execution. But, 
as in all the author's productions, there are many 
brilHant passages, and vivid and beautiful descrip- 
tions. In the parts I have read, I have noticed, how- 
ever, too often a straining after effect, and a fondness 
for sparkling antithesis, which we do not find in the 
^earlier writings of Chateaubriand. 

This seems the fitting place to speak of this writer 
as a literary critic, and of the aesthetic influence he 
exerted over the mind of his country. In no depart- 
ment had French literature been so weak, as in the 
criticism of letters and of art. The horizon of the 
French critics rarely extended beyond ancient Greece 
and Rome, and their own country. They took no 
account of the wants, and the feeHngs, and the as- 
pirations of modern society, nor of the primum mobile 
— the great mainspring of that society — the Christian 
religion. 

The Aristarch, w^ho was the arbiter of taste in the 
age of Louis XIV., and to a great extent in the suc- 
ceeding century, was Boileau, a man of keen wit, but 
of little poetic enthusiasm. The illustrious poet Ra- 
cine said of that critic, '' Boileau is a very good man, 
but understands little of poetry." 

In the eighteenth century English literature began 
to attract the attention of the French poets and 



His Esthetic Views, 379 

critics, as in the early part of the preceding age the 
Spanish had been fashionable. The exquisite judg- 
ment which Nature had given to Voltaire, but which 
impiety and vanity so often distorted, made him 
sometimes a just appreciator of foreign literature. 
La Harpe was one of the fairest and most judicious 
French critics of the last century. Yet he spoke of 
the divinest perhaps of all poets, Dante, in words 
of contemptuous disparagement, which I should be 
ashamed to repeat in this assembly. He was one of 
the last writers of the eighteenth century who lived to 
witness the dreadful result of their religious aberra- 
tions in the Revolution which convulsed its close, 
and whom, under Divine grace, that spectacle brought 
back to religion. 

With the dawn of the present century a better 
critical school arose ; and here, as in so many other 
things, Chateaubriand had the honour of leading the 
way. 

The foundations of his aesthetic system are laid in 
the " Genie du Christianisme;" but the maturer judg- 
ment of later years, and a more accurate study of 
the great monuments of literature and the fine arts, 
enabled our author to develop his system, to correct 
mistakes, and supply shortcomings in his first and 
greatest work. It may be here proper to make a few 
reflections, before I proceed to analyze his aesthetic 
system. 

Christianity, the fullest and the final revelation, 



380 M. de Chateaubriand. 

has disclosed to us a more perfect knowledge of God, 
of the spiritual intelligences, of man, and of material 
Nature. It has revealed to man his origin and his 
destiny, his true relations to the Deity, to his fellow- 
creatures, and to the external world. It has emanci- 
pated him from the ignorances of superstition, from 
the doubts of false philosophy, from the tyranny of 
the passions, from the servitude to outward Nature. 
Hence his senses have been brought under due con- 
trol, his soul has been purified, his feelings refined, 
his imagination exalted, his understanding enlarged 
and enlightened. The Christian religion developing 
all the truths, and realizing all the promises of the 
two elder Dispensations, explained to mankind the 
past, and cast a prophetic light over the future. 
Hence she gave to the historian the key for under- 
standing the course of events, and the destinies of 
mankind; to the poet she disclosed new secrets in 
the human breast, as well as displayed more vividly 
the unseen world — the terrors of the abyss, and the 
transcendent glories of the celestial abodes; she gave 
up to the man of science that Nature which he had 
once w^orshipped as a divinity, but was now to treat 
as his handmaid ; while by the light of her dogmas, 
she enabled the metaphysician to track the most 
hidden paths of human inquiry. 

At the very time when Chateaubriand, in his 
" Genie du Christianisme,'' was laying down the basis 
of a new aesthetic system, a great German philo- 



Frederick von SchlegeL 381 

sopher, Frederick Schlegel, who subsequently became 
a Catholic, was propounding his views of art to his 
country. Both had for object to prove the high and 
blessed influences which Catholic Christianity has 
exerted on literature and art. But in the general 
similarity of principles, it is curious to observe the 
differences of individual genius in the treatment of 
their subject. While the German enunciates broad 
general principles, susceptible of numerous appHca- 
tions, the Frenchman throws out fine, delicate per- 
ceptions, and deals more in illustration, than in the 
rigid deductions of logic. Both display exquisite 
taste and splendid imagination ; but while in Cha- 
teaubriand sensibility prevails, philosophy predomin- 
ates in Schlegel. The rapid eye of the former takes 
in but parts of his subject; the comprehensive glance 
of the latter embraces the whole. 

The aesthetic system of Frederick Schlegel, applied 
and developed by his brother Augustus William, 
and by Tieck, has renovated literary and artistic 
criticism not in Germany only, but in France, Italy, 
and Great Britain. 

To proceed now to the analysis of Chateaubriand's 
aesthetic views : — he shews well how Christianity has 
ennobled and sanctified all the domestic and the 
social relations, and all the afiections and the pas- 
sions, which spring out of and adorn them. He 
shews how that blessed light, which illumines modern 
life, is reflected in modern poetry and art. By a 



382 M. de Chateaubriand, 

comparison between ancient and modern poets, for 
example, he points out how the Christian rehgion 
made up in a certain degree for the deficiencies of 
natural genius, and shed a Divine halo over the works 
of religious art. In our religious system, the relations 
between husband and wife, between mother and child, 
between brother and sister, are brought out in such 
attractive form, and with such winning grace : — there 
friendship is so noble, and love so pure and so ideal. 
And then, as to the characters, which the author 
terms social^ how infinitely more august, more vener- 
able is the Christian priest, than the heathen sooth- 
sayer ! How far more frank, more generous, more 
merciful, more self-devoted is the Christian knight, 
than the pagan warrior! What majestic grace, too, 
what lofty paternity in the true Christian king ! Then 
as Christianity had taught new virtues, it inspired 
new sentiments ; it turned the eye of man inwards 
upon himself; it rendered his conscience more deli- 
cate : and thus ensued a struggle between that con- 
science, and the evil passions and the evil spirits, 
which were ever urging him to sin. Hence arose a 
new phase of moral life, well adapted, according to 
our author, to the purposes of epic and of dramatic 
poetry. 

The heathen was the child of Nature ; — his creed 
was composed, partly of Divine elements, derived from 
primitive revelation, partly of human and corrupt 
elements. He was "of the earth — earthy;" he looked 



Influence of Christianity 07i all Art. 383 

too much to outward things ; he attended too Httle to 
the internal motives of action, and recoiled only from 
those grosser moral transgressions, which shocked 
the reason, and terrified the conscience. Hence in 
human psychology the Christian religion has intro- 
duced a great change, which it is the duty of poetry, 
as well as of philosophy to attend to. 

Lastly, Chateaubriand speaks of that holy passion 
of Divine love which our faith has inspired. It is 
that passion — which is, as it were, the inner life of the 
Church — which for more than eighteen hundred years 
hath filled the earth with marvels, w^hich inspired the 
heroic fortitude of the apostles and the martyrs, 
which peopled the solitude with holy anchorites, 
which with untiring tenderness daily dries up the 
tears, ministers to the wants, enlightens the igno- 
rance, and corrects the errors of frail humanity, and 
amid a cold and selfish world, fans the flame ot an 
undying love. What an exhaustless source of poetic 
and artistic beauty in this principle of Divine love ! 

There is, however, another element of Christian 
life, which our author has but just touched, and which 
it had been well had he more enlarged on. This is 
the mystical element in the Church. As under the 
graceful forms, and wondrous variety, and teeming 
luxuriance of vegetable and animal life in external 
Nature, there are marvels of interior organism hidden 
from our eye ; it is so in the Church. We are 
amazed at her outward energy — the splendour of her 



384 M. de Chateaubriand. 

liturgy — the pomp of her ceremonial — the number 
and variety of her works of love — the activity of her 
preaching — the efficacy of sacramental grace — the 
success of her missions, domestic and foreign — her 
wonderfully deep and compact theology — her mar- 
vellous unity — her immortal duration, defying the 
opposition of earth and of hell, the assaults of schism 
and of heresy, and of false science and philosophy, 
the craft of statesmen, and the fanaticism of the popu- 
lace — a duration which, realizing the Divine promise, 
makes her victorious over the world, and even time 
itself. 

But not less striking than those outward mani- 
festations, is the hidden, inner Ufe of the Church. 
What a world of marvels does the canonization of a 
saint display! — marvels which are, as it were, the 
counterpart to the external workings of the Church. 
What a mine for poetry and art in that mysterious 
life of the saints ! — in their long vigils and their habit 
of prayer — their glorious visions and ecstasies — their 
gift of prophecy — their intuitions in Divine things — 
their miraculous cures — their dominion over external 
Nature — their wrestHngs with, and final victories over 
Satanic power — their deathbeds surrounded by angelic 
troops ! 

These are subjects which Christian painting has 
treated with consummate power, but which Christian 
poetry, except in the Muse of the great Dante, has too 
much overlooked. And if, as I before said, Chateau- 



His Critique on ''Paradise LostT 385 

briand has not sufficiently dwelt on this element of 
Christian aesthetics, he probably thought that his age 
was not sufficiently ripe for it. 

The Essay on English Literature, which our author 
brought out in 183 1, though often desultory and un- 
equal, contains some fragments of priceless w^orth. 

The criticism on Milton is by far the finest portion 
of the work. In his chapter entitled " Plan of Para- 
dise Lost/^ Chateaubriand has entered more fully into 
the spirit of Milton, than any critic I have ever met 
with. He has given me a loftier conception of that 
sublime poem, than I had before formed. It is a criti- 
cism which takes the original to pieces, and then by a 
bold effort of genius casts it anew. It is the more re- 
markable, as it appears in a work which not unfre- 
quently betrays the decline of the author's intellectual 
powers. The following passage in the chapter re- 
ferred to I shall now take the liberty of citing : it is 
in our author's best manner, and reminds me of the 
sublime simplicity of Bossuet. The opening of the 
poem is thus described : — 

" Satan awakes in the midst of the fiery lake, (and 
what an awakening!) E[e gathers together a coun- 
cil of the chastened legions : he reminds his com- 
panions in disobedience and in misfortune of an an- 
cient oracle, which foretold the birth of a new world, 
the creation of a new race formed with the design of 
filling up the void left by the fallen angels. Fearful 

2 B 



386 M, de Chateaubriand, 

tliought ! it is in hell we hear for the first time pro- 
nounced the name of Man. 

^' Satan proposes to go in quest of that unknown 
world, to destroy or to corrupt it. He departs, ex- 
plores hell, encounters Sin and Death, bursts open the 
portals of the abyss, traverses chaos, discovers crea- 
tion, descends to the sun, alights upon the earth, be- 
holds our first parents in Eden, is touched by their 
beauty and by their innocence, and by his remorse 
and his pity gives us an ineffable idea of their nature 
and of their happiness. From the heights of heaven 
the Deity beholds Satan, foresees the frailty of man, 
announces his entire ruin, unless some one offers him- 
self to be his security, and to die for him. The angels 
remain mute with terror. In the silence of the heavens, 
the Son alone speaks, and offers Himself for a Sacri- 
fice. The Victim is accepted, and even before he 
hath fallen, man is redeemed." 



After a rapid analysis of the remaining portions of 
"Paradise Lost," the author concludes: — "Such is 
the work in its noble simplicity. The facts and the 
recitals spring naturally one out of the other. We 
traverse hell, chaos, the heavens, the earth, eternity, 
time, in the midst of canticles and of blasphemies, of 
punishments and of joys. We are borne through those 
immensities quite naturally and with ease, without 
perceiving, without feeling the movement — without 



Translation of ' ' Paradise L ost, ' ' 387 

thinking of the efforts that were needed to bear us up 
so high on eagle-wings, and to create such a uni- 
verse." 

Chateaubriand had for several years been engaged 
on a translation of the ^' Paradise Lost " into French 
prose. It appeared in 1838. During his emigration 
he had translated for a London pubHsher some por- 
tions of that poem \ and now, when much of the indi- 
gence of his youth had returned, he resumed this 
labour of love. The divine bard, as he tells us, filled 
up his cup once more. M. Villemain, who from his 
great knowledge of the English language and litera- 
ture is a most competent judge in such a matter, de- 
clares that though this translation occasionally dis- 
plays great beauties, it is, from being too systemati- 
cally literal, not a successful version. 

Before concluding this biographical sketch, it is 
but fitting to give a few extracts from the author's 
writings, so as to enable you to test the accuracy 
of my criticisms. My limits will not allow me to 
cite more than a few passages. And as the descrip- 
tion of external nature was one of the departments 
in which Chateaubriand most excelled, the passages 
selected will illustrate on this point his fascinating 
powers. 

In his beautiful Letters on Italy, addressed to M. 
de Fontanes, we find the following charming reflec- 
tions on the scenes of nature, and their associations. 
Speaking of the cascade of Tivoli, he says : — 



388 M. de Chateaubriand. 

" I will tell you/' addressing M. de Fontanes, " I 
have been annoyed by that roar of waters, which so 
often delighted me in the forests of America. I still 
reniember with what delight at night-time, in the midst 
of the forest, when my camp-fire was nearly extinct, 
when my guide was asleep, when my horses were 
browsing at some distance, — I still remember, I say, 
with what delight I listened to the melody of winds 
and of waters in the depth of those solitudes. Those 
murmurs, sometimes high, sometimes low, rising and 
falling at every moment, made my heart beat ; and 
every tree was to me as a lyre, from which the winds 
drew forth ineffable harmonies. 

^^At present I feel I am less sensible to those 
charms of nature, and I doubt whether even the 
cataract of Niagara itself would excite in me the same 
admiration as formerly. When we are very young, 
mute nature speaks to us much, because there is a 
superabundance of feeling within the heart of man. 
The world is then all before us ; and we hope to con- 
vey back to that world our feelings, and we nourish a 
thousand chimeras. But at a more advanced age, 
when the prospect which lay before us has been left 
behind, when we have been disabused of so many illu- 
sions, then nature in her solitude becomes more frigid 
and more silent in our regard, or, as La Fontaine says, 
the gardens speak but little. To excite our interest, re- 
collections of society must attach to nature, because 
we suffice less to ourselves; absolute solitude is a 



Environs of Rome. 389 

burden to us, and we need those conversations which, 
as Horace says, are carried on in a low voice between 
friends."* 

How exquisite is the following description of the 
environs of Rome ! — 

^' Nothing is so beautiful as the lines of the Roman 
horizon — as the gentle incHnation of the plains — as 
the soft, evanescent outlines of the mountains which 
bound that horizon. Often the valleys assume the 
form of an arena, of a circus, of a hippodrome ; while 
the hillocks are cut into terraces, as if the vigorous 
hand of the Romans had stirred up all that earth. A 
peculiar haze spread over the distance rounds off all 
objects, and removes everything harsh or displeasing 
in their forms. The shadows are never cumbrous and 
dark ; there are no masses, however obscure, in the 
foHage and the rocks, where some little light does not 
penetrate. A singular harmony of tints unites the 
earth, the sky, the waters ; all surfaces, by means of 
an insensible gradation of colours, so unite in their 
extremities, that it is not possible to determine the 
point where one shade ends, and where another be- 
gins. You have doubtless admired in the landscapes 
of Claude Lorrain that light which seems ideal and 
more beautiful than nature. Well, this, I can assure 
you, is the light of Rome. 

" I was never tired of contemplating from the Villa 
Borghese the sun setting over the cypresses of Mount 
* Souvenirs d'ltalie, pp. 23, 24. 



3 go M. de Chateaubriand. 

Marius, or over the pines of the Villa Pamfili, planted 
by Le Notre. I have often also ascended the Tiber 
to Ponte Mode to enjoy that grand spectacle of the 
close of day. The summits of the Sabine mountains 
then appear all composed of lapis-lazuli and pale gold, 
while their base and their sides are steeped in a vapour 
of a violet or purple tint. Sometimes beautiful clouds, 
like light cars, borne on the evening breeze with a 
matchless grace, enable us to realize the apparition of 
the Olympian inhabitants under that mythological 
sky. Sometimes, again, ancient Rome seems to have 
spread out in the far West all the purple of her consuls 
and of her Cassars under the last steps of the god of 
day. But all this rich decoration does not disappear 
as quickly as in our northern climes. When you 
think the tints are about to be effaced, the colours 
suddenly light up on another point of the horizon ; 
twiHght seems to succeed to twilight ; and the magic 
of sunset is prolonged. It is true that at this hour of 
deep repose for the fields the air no longer resounds 
with pastoral songs ; the shepherds have disappeared ; 
^ dulcia linquimus arvaf but we still see the large 
victims of Clitumnus, the white oxen, or the troops 
of half-wild mares, descending alone to the banks of 
the Tiber, and coming to drink of its waters. You 
would fancy yourself carried back to the times of 
the old Sabines, or to the age of the Arcadian Evan- 
der, at the time when the Tiber was called Albula, 



The American Solitudes. 391 

and when the pious ^neas ascended its unknown 



waves." * 



Must we not admit that in these exquisite land- 
scapes, even viewed through the defective medium of 
my version, the pen of Chateaubriand vies with the 
pencil of Poussin and of Claude Lorrain % 

In the passages I have cited you may observe two 
distinctive traits in the genius of this great master — - 
the intense sympathy he shews to reign between ex- 
ternal nature and man's inward feelings, and the 
happy association of historical recollections with na- 
tural scenery. 

Take, again, another passage, where he is describ- 
ing the solitudes of North America in her high lati- 
tudes : — 

" On all sides," says he, "prevail indefinable mur- 
murs. Here there are frogs, bellowing like bulls ; 
there are another kind of frogs, which live in the trunks 
of old willows, and whose continuous cries resemble 
alternately the tinkling of a sheep-bell, and the bark- 
ing of a dog. The traveller, agreeably deceived in 
those wild regions, fancies he is approaching a labour- 
er's hut, or that he hears the lowings and the tread of 
a herd. At length vast harmonies, suddenly stirred 
up by the winds, fill the depths of the forest, like a 
universal chorus of the Hamadryads. But soon, 
again, those sounds sink, and by degrees die away in 
* Souvenirs d' Italic, pp. 8-10. 



392 M, de Chateaubriand, 

the tops of the cedars and the reeds ; so that you 
cannot tell the moment when those sounds cease, or 
whether they still continue, or whether they be not 
the mere offspring of fancy."* 

I regret that these passages are the only flowers 
which I have now time to collect from the author's 
writings. ^ 

As to the conversation of Chateaubriand, the Abbe 
de la Mennais described it to me as remarkable for 
naturalness and ease, and an unpretending simplicity. 
The same judgment is passed by M. Villemain in his 
recent biography. ^' The conversation of Chateau- 
briand," says his friend the Duke de Noailles, in his 
panegyric at the French Academy, " was full of ease 
and simplicity, and had no trace of the stateliness of 
his written style, nor of the sometimes gloomy charac- 
ter of his works. At times silent and dreamy, at times 
rising to lofty reflections, but oftener displaying a pre- 
cise, lucid, and sensible mind, he poured out his 
thoughts with a charming ease and a serene cheer- 
fulness." t 

The last years of Chateaubriand were cheered and 
soothed with the hopes and consolations of religion. 
Exercises of devotion and acts of charity were the 
sweetest solace to one so cruelly tried by the storms 
of fortune. ^^Alms," he would say to those who 
urged on him not to exceed his limited means — " Alms 

* Souvenirs d'Amerique, pp. 233, 234. 

+ Discours de M. de Noailles ii I'Academie, p. 770. 



Madame de Chateaubriand, 393 

are the easiest form of penitence." Often remember- 
ing the vicissitudes of his pubHc Hfe, and the ingrati- 
tude of courts, he would exclaim, "Christ is my 
King; my only King is Christ/^ He had at last 
found the Monarch who repays so liberally the ser- 
vices of His followers, and at whose court neither 
caprice nor ingratitude can ever find admission. 

In 1847 M. de Chateaubriand lost the faithful part- 
ner of his life — the excellent lady whose wisdom 
and piety had shone alike in misfortune and in pros- 
perity, whose counsels had so often sustained him in 
his chequered existence, and in whose active charities 
it was his happy privilege to have taken part. 

He has in his Memoirs paid the following touching 
tribute to her memory : — 

" I know not," he says, " whether there has ever 
existed a keener intelligence than my wife's ; she 
divines the thought and the word hovering on the 
brow and the lips of the person, with whom she is 
conversing. To deceive her is next to impossible. 
Of an original and cultivated mind, with a spirit of the 
most piquant curiosity, and with a wonderful talent 
for narration, Madame de Chateaubriand admires 
me without ever having read two lines of my works. 
She fears she would there meet with ideas which are 
not hers, or discover that the world has not sufficient 
enthusiasm for my worth. Though an impassioned 
judge, she is a well-informed judge, and a good one. 

" The defects of Madame de Chateaubriand, if she 



394 ^^ d^ Chateaubriand. 

has any, flow from the superabundance of her good 
qualities ; my faults, too real, spring from the sterility 
of my good qualities Madame de Cha- 
teaubriand is far better than myself, though in social 
intercourse less easy. Have I been irreproachable in 
her regard? Have I manifested towards the com- 
panion of my life all those sentiments which she mer- 
ited, and which by right belonged to her % Has she 
ever uttered a complaint on the subject? What hap- 
piness has she tasted in return for an affection which 
was never found wanting % She was the partner of 
all my misfortunes ; she was plunged into the dun- 
geons of the Reign of Terror ; she shared my perse- 
cutions under the Empire, and my disgraces under 
the Restoration ; and found not in maternal joys an 
antidote to all these troubles. Deprived of children, 
whom she might have had in another union, and 
whom she would have loved with almost idolatry, she 
has not experienced all those honours and those ten- 
dernesses that attend on the mother of a family, and 
that console woman in her prime. Thus has she ad- 
vanced sterile and solitary towards old age. . . . 

" Can I weigh any annoyances she has given me 
against the anxieties I have occasioned her % Can I 
oppose any good qualities I may possess to her vir- 
tues, which feed the poor, which have raised up the 
Infirmary of Marie-Therese in despite of so many 
obstacles % What are my labours compared with the 
works of that Christian lady % When both of us shall 



His Posthumous Memoirs. 395 

appear before the judgment-seat of God, it is I that 
shall be condemned." 

Then, after examining what sort of influence a single 
life might have had on his literary labours^ and after 
alluding to the divergence of political views between 
himself and Madame de Chateaubriand, the illustrious 
writer concludes with these noble words : — " Retained 
by an indissoluble tie, I have purchased at the price 
of a little bitterness at first the sweets I now enjoy. 
Of the evils of my existence I have kept but the part, 
which was incurable. I owe, therefore, a tender and 
eternal gratitude to my wife, whose attachment has 
been as touching as it w^as sincere and profound. She 
has rendered my life more grave, more noble, more 
honourable, in inspiring me ever with the respect for 
my duties, if she gave me not always the strength to 
accomplish them."^ 

Of the work from which this passage is extracted, 
the Posthumous Memoirs, or, as they are called, the 
"Memoires d'Outre-tombe," I shall say but a few 
words. 

The book abounds, indeed, in passages of great 
beauty and great power, and contains lively and inter- 
esting sketches of men and of things, vivid and bril- 
liant descriptions of nature, and vigorous, but often too 
severe and sombre, delineations of the human charac- 
ter. Yet it had been better for its author had it 
never been given to the world. 

* M^moires d' Outre -tombe, vol. i., pp. 348-351. 



396 M. de Chateaubriand. 

The first, but the least, defect in these Memoirs is 
their excessive length, and the very minute details 
into which they run. The next defect is the very 
offensive tone of egotism and vanity apparent in 
many parts. The third is the indecorous character 
of some passages. The last and gravest fault is the 
harsh, unkind, contemptuous manner in which the 
author speaks of estimable colleagues, the tone of de- 
preciation in which he characterizes the genius of 
some illustrious contemporaries, and, above all, the 
gross injustice too often manifested towards the party, 
with which he had so long the honour of being con- 
nected, whose principles inspired his noblest political 
effusions, which raised him to the pinnacle of great- 
ness, and the desertion of whose ranks, prompted by 
resentment, filled his last years with bitterness and 
self-reproach ; for it helped to bring on the ruin of his 
country. 

The publication of the Posthumous Memoirs im- 
mediately led to complaints, protests, and recrimina- 
tions from various parties. Surely a voice that speaks 
from the tomb should awaken a spirit of peace and 
charity, and not one of contention and hate ! 

The dreadful days of June 1848, which witnessed 
the most bloody conflict in the whole history of the 
Revolution, and when not merely the ephemeral Re- 
public, but society itself, seemed on the verge of 
destruction ; those days, I say, were destined to 
sadden the close of Chateaubriand's mortal career. 



His Last Moments. 397 

** Seated," says an eye-witness, "before his open 
windows, feeling death gradually stealing over him, 
pale, silent, and melancholy, his head sunk down on 
his chest, he Hstened attentively to the far sounds of 
civil strife, while every roar of the cannon brought 
tears to his eyes."* After a long silence, he was 
heard to mutter to himself those words he had written 
in 1814: "No, I will never believe that I write on 
the tomb of France." But that patriotic soul, ere it 
winged its flight from its native land, learned the wel- 
come tidings, that the cause of society had been saved. 

Shortly before his agony came on, he gave utter- 
ance to his sorrow at the assassination of the excel- 
lent Archbishop of Paris, Mgr. Affre. His death-bed 
was attended by those most entitled to his love and 
respect. There was his confessor and friend the 
Abbe Guerry, who administered to him the last con- 
solations of religion ; there was his nephew, M. Louis 
de Chateaubriand, the son of that much-loved brother, 
Armand de Chateaubriand, of whom he so often 
speaks in his Memoirs ; there was the good superior- 
ess of the Convent of Marie-Therese, founded by 
himself and his virtuous consort ; and there was 
Madame Recamier, who had been so constant a 
friend of both. 

Chateaubriand expired with great serenity on the 
4th of July 1848. 

* Rhjiie des deux Mondes^ t. iii., p. 127. Lom6iie, Chateau- 
briand et ses M^moires. 



398 • -^' de Chateaubriand. 

As a youth, he had been nurtured in the tempest ; 
so in the tempest he was destined to sink to his final 
sleep. 

France, in the agony of her social crisis, raised up 
her head for a moment, thought of the great spirit 
she had lost, and bitterly wept. 

The funeral obsequies of the deceased were cele- 
brated two days after his death in the Church of the 
^^ Missions dtrangeres " by a numerous clergy ; and 
many' distinguished members of the laity were present 
on the solemn occasion. But it was in his own 
Brittany the illustrious departed was to receive the 
funeral honours worthy of himself, worthy of that 
classic land of fidelity. 

In his life-time the municipality of St Malo had, at 
his request, granted a solitary rock in the bay of that 
seaport for his place of sepulture. Thither his re- 
mains were now conveyed, accompanied by some ot 
the Paris clergy and of his lay friends. A solemn 
service was celebrated in the cathedral of that town ; 
and then the funeral procession commenced. 

More than fifty thousand persons attended this holy 
and national ceremony; the sea was studded with 
boats ; the housetops and the shoals around were 
crowded with spectators ; banners were flaunting on 
the breeze ; and the deep silence was interrupted only 
by the mournful canticles, and the booming of cannon. 
The coffin was at last deposited in a recess of the 
high rock, surmounted by a granite cross, which, like 



Estimate of his Genius, 399 

the tomb of Themistocles on Colonna's cliffs, an- 
nounces to the navigator who salutes from afar the 
French coast, the last resting-place of Chateaubriand. 
His learned friend and disciple M. Ampere, who had 
been deputed by the French Academy to be its re- 
presentative on this mournful occasion, thus con- 
cludes his report to that learned body: "It would 
seem that the genius of the incomparable painter had 
been stamped on this last magnificent spectacle, and 
that to him alone among men it has been given to 
add, even after death, a splendid page to the immor- 
tal poem of his life.'^ '"' 

I shall now endeavour, according to the best of my 
ability, to sum up his general characteristics as a writer. 
'"Nature had- bestowed on M. de Chateaubriand a 
most brilliant imagination, and a deep sensibility. 
To these were added a soHd judgment, a refined 
taste, and reasoning powers of no ordinary stamp. 
All these faculties had been cultivated and developed 
by careful study, and by extensive travel. He had 
long meditated on the great models of classical an- 
tiquity, and made himself familiar with the illustrious 
writers of his own country. He was versed in Eng- 
lish, Italian, and even Spanish literature ; and for a 
layman, possessed considerable acquaintance with 
the Sacred Scriptures, the writings of the primitive 
fathers, and with ecclesiastical history. He had care- 
fully studied the early annals of his own country, as 
* Discours de M. de Noailles, pp. 771, 772. 



400 M, de Chateaubfiand. 

well as the private memoirs of its later times. Even 
on some branches of physical science, such as 
natural history, he had bestowed considerable atten- 
tion. 

A genius so happily constituted, and enriched with 
such acquirements, found a happy instrument in a 
clear, elegant, flexible, and harmonious style. 

The description of external nature, and the por- 
traiture of human manners, are the two points in 
which this great writer most excels. He is not a 
mere Thomson, who depicts Nature with a minute, 
Dutch-like accuracy; nor, on the other hand, does 
he, hke Wordsworth, cast over his pictures a hazy, 
half-pantheistic vagueness. But Nature stands before 
him clear, bright, with a distinct outline, and as the 
medium between God and man. Well had he learned 
her strange, mysterious tongue j and whether in the 
graceful forms of vegetation, or in the rich variety of 
organic life, — whether in the strange rustling of the 
primeval forest, the roar of the tremendous cataract, 
or the towering majesty of the mountain-chain, — 
whether on the trackless expanse of ocean, or in the 
vast, starry firmament of night, — Nature ever spoke to 
him of the power, the wisdom, and the goodness of 
her Maker. 

His portraiture of manners is vivid, for with his 
glowing fancy he united powers of keen observation ; 
and in the singular vicissitudes of his life, as well as 
in his wanderings through so many different regions, 



Estimate of his Genius, 401 

he had seen and studied mankind under a great 
variety of aspects. 

In the description of manners and customs, he is 
more successful than in the dehneation of character ; 
for his mind was more turned to the contemplation of 
outward than of inward objects. Hence in his ro- 
mances we find more of the rhetoric of the passions, 
than the psychological analysis of character. 

In his first and greatest work, the " Genie du 
Christianisme," composed before he had reached his 
thirty-seventh year, Chateaubriand's powers were all 
brought out to their fullest extent. Here he could 
display his rich stores of elegant literature and varied 
learning ; his clear, forcible reasoning in proving the 
truths of the Christian religion ; his splendid powers 
of description in shewing the manifold blessings, 
social and intellectual, she has conferred on man- 
kind ; and his exquisite sensibility in pointing out her 
latent harmonies with the human heart, and with ex- 
ternal nature herself Many of these excellencies are 
to be found in the beautiful epic of the '^ Martyrs," 
where the author so happily realized his own theory 
of Christian art, as well as in his Travels in Greece, 
Egypt, and Palestine — a most finished and exquisite 
production. 

In his political writings and speeches, Chateau- 
briand did not rise to equal excellence, partly because, 
as we have seen, he did not fully grasp the political 

principles of his party, the rationale of its system, if I 

2 c 



402 M. de Chateaubriand. 

may so speak j and partly because those writings did 
not afford scope to the most eminent quaUties of his 
mind. In those productions we find, as I before said, 
neither the large practical wisdom of a Burke, nor the 
luminous intuitions of a De Maistre, nor the deep 
philosophy and the historical illustrations of a Schlegel 
and a Gorres. But we meet with judicious observa- 
tions and generous sentiments, set forth by a brilliant 
imagination. In his political writings and speeches, 
as well as in his romances, there is a floating vapour 
of high truths and noble feelings, lit up by the rays of 
a splendid fancy. 

Chateaubriand was not, indeed, a metaphysician, 
but belonged to the class of writers called moralists ; 
for he displayed a great knowledge, and a keen 
observation of human life. 

The most salient trait in this great man's genius 
is, perhaps, his versatility. We are astonished at the 
amazing variety of his productions, as well as at the 
great excellence displayed amid all that variety. Tra- 
vels, different kinds of poetry, the romance, the ethical 
treatise, poHtical essays and pohtical speeches, history, 
biography, literary criticism, memoirs — such are the 
various themes which engaged the lively, versatile 
mind of this extraordinary man. In some of these 
he attained to excellence of a high order, and in 
others he occupied a most respectable position. 

The best way, perhaps, of drawing out a clear 
analysis of his genius, would be to institute a com- 



Compared with M. de la Mennais. 403 

parison between him and that once illustrious coun- 
tryman already spoken of, whose cradle was con- 
tiguous to his own. 

Chateaubriand, in his "Genie du Christianisme," 
commenced the work of religious regeneration, which 
the Abbe de la Mennais, in his " Essai sur T Indif- 
ference,^^ completed. The former predisposed the 
infidel mind to Christianity \ the latter, under Divine 
grace, forced it to succumb to the evidences of reli- 
gion. Chateaubriand charms and delights us in his 
writings; La Mennais thrills and electrifies. The 
former had greater liberality of sentiment, and a more 
genial sympathy with mankind; the latter, though 
most kind-hearted, took too dark a view of human 
nature, and had too little tolerance for human in- 
firmity. If La Mennais had a more powerful under- 
standing, Chateaubriand possessed a more practical 
sohdity of judgment. The genius of the layman was, 
perhaps, too rhetorical to rise to the highest regions 
of poetry, and not keen enough to penetrate into the 
deep places of philosophy. In the mind of the priest, 
it is difficult to know whether the poetical or the 
ratiocinative element had the greater preponderance. 
One loved a certain magnificent pomp of description ; 
the other painted with the graphic strokes of a Tacitus 
and a Dante. Though inferior to his great rival in 
intellectual power, the grace and flexibility of Chateau- 
briand's mind went far to adjust the balance. 

The learning of both, extensive as it was, and run- 



404 M. de Chateaubriand, \ 

ning parallel on many points, yet diverged in different 
directions — that of one bearing more towards the 
belles-lettres ; that of the other leaning more to eru- 
dition, sacred and profane. 

Lastly, whilst the literary career of the priest ex- 
hibits, alas, a moral and intellectual disrupture more 
shocking even than that of the great TertuUian, to 
whom he bore so many points of resemblance ; the 
writings of Chateaubriand, from the first moment of 
his youthful conversion, display, as far as regards 
religion at least, the most steady and happy uni- 
formity. And so, in conclusion, I may say of the 
great man whose life I have been sketching, that ^^ he 
finished his course, that he kept the faith, that he 
fought the good fight, and that the crown of justice 
has been reserved for him in heaven." We may 
firmly believe and trust that the spirit of Chateau- 
briand, purged from the stains he may have contracted 
in his earthly pilgrimage, is now beholding, face to 
face, that Great Being whose attributes he so elo- 
quently described, and whose love he once enkindled 
on the desolate hearths of his country. He is now, 
we fondly hope, contemplating the ineffable beauty of 
those laws, whereof he sought to obtain a dim reflec- 
tion on this earth ; — he is now ravished by those 
Divine harmonies, of which few mortals here below 
have ever had so keen an anticipation. And so in 
this hope I conclude his fife. 



TWO LECTURES 

ON 

THE SECRET SOCIETIES OF 
MODERN TIMES. 



LECTURE I.^' 

freemasonry: sketch of its origin and early 
progress ; its moral and political tendency. 

Ladies and Gentlemen, 
TN resuming these public lectures, which have been 
delayed longer than I could have wished, I had 
purposed to do for Portugal what I had already done 
for Spain, by tracing her history from the fifteenth 
century down to the last War of Independence. 

But revered members of the Irish clergy having re- 
quested me to treat of Secret Societies, which are now 
the curse and bane of European nations, I have be- 

* This lecture, published two years ago, and of which the 
second edition is exhausted, is here reprinted, as it stands in 
the closest connexion with the next, which has never seen the 
light. 



4o6 Freemasonry. 

gun \vith the venerable parent of all secret societies, 
the Masonic Order. But, before entering mpon the 
subject, I wish to make a few preliminary lemaiks. 

In the first place, our Protestant brethren, not being 
interdicted by the authorities in their different com- 
munions from becoming members of this society, incur 
not by such a step the same responsibility as Catholics 
who join it. In the second place, many excellent 
Catholics, on being made acquainted with the judg- 
ments of the Church on Freemasonry, have given up 
all connexion with the Order. In the third place,, 
there are in all countries estimable individuals belong- 
ing to the lower degrees of Masonry, and who are not 
cognizant of its ultimate tendencies, which I shall 
shew to be anti-Christian and anti-social. And lastly^ 
this remark is especially applicable to these three 
countries — England, Scotland, and Ireland, where 
Masonry has generally, but not alv^ays, retained a 
more innocuous character. 

In our East and West India colonies, where hospi- 
tality is, as it were, a necessity of life, this society is 
found to possess great attractions. And so, likewise, 
in that noble profession of arms, where friendships are 
so warm and generous, this institution is thought to 
knit closer the ties of fellowship. 

Thus an English or Irish Catholic young gentle- 
man, finding, in Protestant England for example,, 
Masonry in its lower grades comparatively harmless^ 
proceeds to Belgium, expecting to find in that very 



Plan of the Lecture. 407 

Catholic country the Order in a most satisfactory con- 
dition. Yet it is precisely because Belgium is such a 
Catholic country, that the bad elements of society 
there have settled in Masonic lodges. The depravity 
of those lodges may be estimated by a single fact. A 
few years ago they were shameless enough to present 
a golden pen to the most infamous writer of the pres- 
ent age, the late M. Eugene Sue. So the English or 
Irish Catholic young gentleman^ who has, as I have 
supposed, visited these Belgian lodges, will return to 
his country either disgusted with Masonry, or with his 
faith and morals ruined. 

But it is time, after these preliminary remarks, to 
enter upon the subject. 

As Freemasonry professes in its higher grades to 
restore what it calls the pure Religion of Nature ; and 
again, as it promises, under the specious names of 
^^ Liberty and Equality,^' to make men better and 
happier than Christianity has made them ; it throws 
down the gauntlet on all the great problems of moral 
and social life. Whoever attempts, therefore, to op- 
pose its pretensions, must take up the gauntlet it has 
thrown down. 

Under these circumstances, I have been compelled 
to point out the nature of primitive religion, the de- 
fection of heathenism, and the relations of the cele- 
brated Eleusinian Mysteries, from which Masonry 
claims to derive its system, both to the primitive Re- 
velation on the one hand, and to paganism itself on 



4o8 Freemasonry. 

the other. The appeal which this institution makes 
to what it calls the more spiritual Judaism is then 
examined. 

Next, I give a rapid historic sketch of Masonry, 
shewing how it evolved from the associations of archi- 
tects in the Middle Age, till, in the times of the Eng- 
lish Commonwealth, it assumed a political form. Then 
I trace its history from that period down to the middle 
of the last century, when it incurs the formal censures 
of the Church. Afterwards, I endeavour to justify 
the judgments of the Church in respect to all secret 
societies, and especially to those who, like the higher 
Masons, the Illuminati, the Jacobins, and the Social- 
ists, aim at a total religious and social revolution. I 
shew how utterly inconsistent with the Christian reve- 
lation are the very pretensions of Masonry. Then I 
explain why so many estimable individuals, and some 
holding a high social position, were members of the 
Masonic Order. Afterwards, I shew that a large por- 
tion of Masons in every country, and especially in this 
empire, as they occupied the lower grades of the Order, 
knew nothing of its ultimate tendencies. The dangers 
of Masonry, even to those in the inferior degrees, are 
then considered. 

Next I analyze its constitution, and then its re- 
ligious, and subsequently its political, doctrines. 

Here occurs an episode on the Knights-Templars, 
in which I shew how their history fits in to that of the 
Masonic Order. I prove how the corrupt tenets of 



Authorities used. 409 

the bad portion of the Templars perfectly correspond 
to those of the higher grades of Masonry. I then go 
off into an excursus on the social and intellectual 
blessings which the Catholic Church has actually con- 
ferred on mankind, compared with those which Ma- 
sonry promised, but could never realize. I conclude 
with a comparison between the religious and political 
tenets of the deistical Masons, of the atheistical II- 
luminati and Jacobins, and of the pantheistic Social- 
ists. Such is the wide field I purpose to travel over 
to-night. I must most earnestly bespeak your indul- 
gence — first, for detaining you so long j and, secondly, 
for handling a subject which, I sincerely believe, my 
powers are unequal to. 

My chief authorities are as follows : — 

1. The Abbe BarrueFs work, entitled, "The Me- 
moirs of Jacobinism," the second volume of which is 
very full upon Masonry. In the thirty years preced- 
ing the French Revolution of 1789, the Abbe Barruel 
had by personal observation, as well as by research, 
ample opportunities of learning the principles and the 
working of the Masonic lodges. The first volume of 
this work was translated into English in the year 1796, 
and met with the approval of our illustrious Burke, 
who cites it in one of his last writings. 

2. The main statements of Barruel are corroborated 
by the Protestant writer. Professor Robison, of Edin- 
burgh, in a book entitled, " Proofs of a Conspiracy 
against all Religions and Governments in Europe.'' 



4IO Freemasonry. 

This work was published in 1798, and dedicated to 
the great statesman and orator, Wyndham. Robison 
had originally been a Mason. 

3. A manual of Masonry was published some years 
ago by the infidel bookseller, Richard Carlile. In 
this all the ceremonies, degrees, and instructions in 
Masonry are described. 

4. A work on this subject appeared a few years 
ago from the pen of a German Protestant, M. Eckert, 
an advocate at Dresden. It is entitled, ^^ Freemasonry 
considered in its true signification, or in its organiza- 
tion, its object, and its history. '' This work, which I 
received but a few days ago, I have consulted only in 
certain portions, and in a French translation."* 

I beg leave to observe that it is only from pub- 
lished documents I have drawn the materials of this 
lecture. 

I now proceed to my subject. 

Man, born to know and to love Eternal Truth, 
possesses an insatiable desire of knowledge. In his 
state of original justice, that desire of knowledge 
would have been one of the chief sources of his hap- 
piness ; for it would have led him to study more and 
more the power, and the wisdom, and the goodness of 
his Maker. The contemplation of those Divine attri- 
butes would have more and more enkindled his love; 
and the fervour of love would again have augmented 

* This translation is from the pen of the Abbe Gyr, and was 
printed at Li^ge in 1854. 



The Fall of Man, 4 1 1 

the brightness of knowledge. Everywhere, whether 
in the clear, broad mirror of external nature, or in the 
depths of his own consciousness, or in the aspect of his 
fellow-creatures, united among themselves, united with 
their God, or in the luminous tradition of truth handed 
down from one happy generation to another, — every- 
where would man have then clearly discerned the image 
of his Creator. But at the fall what a miserable change 
ensued ! That noble desire of knowledge degenerated 
into an inordinate curiosity ; the intellectual vision of 
God was obscured ; and fear succeeded to love. Na- 
ture was now a broken mirror, that but half reflected 
the Deity. The senses and the appetites of man had 
revolted against his will, his will against his reason, 
and his reason against the law of his God. His con- 
science, laden with guilt, reluctantly acknowledged 
the force of that law which he had violated ; and his 
reason, confused, disordered, had forfeited the once 
bright intuition of divine things. So in that human 
consciousness, once so serene, so harmonious, all was 
now discord and perturbation. And if man looked 
around on his fellow-creatures, he saw beings as 
miserable as himself, and groaning under the penalty 
of the same guilt. And what had become of that 
glorious tradition of Eden, which, without the fall, 
would have been like a golden girdle, binding one 
generation after another to its God % Alas ! that tra- 
dition now became a motley- coloured, curiously- 
tangled web of primeval truth and poetic fiction. 



4 1 2 Freemasonry, 

Man, born to control nature, sank more and more 
under her dominion ; and the wicked spirit who had 
first seduced him to rebellion, sought to alienate him 
further and further from his Maker. Such is the 
origin of paganism. It is the most exact representa- 
tion of fallen man. It shews him in his grandeur as 
well as in his abasement, in the struggles of the good 
and of the bad elements of his nature, in his aspira- 
tions after immortality, as in his downward tendency 
to earth. 

Hence, when the cultivated heathen examined the 
grounds of his religion, he found it a subject of per- 
plexity. The dictates of reason — the pangs of con- 
science — the utterances of universal tradition — the 
voice of nature — all urged him to seek light, and 
solace, and expiation in the temple. But, unworthy 
and incoherent representations of the Deity, the sen- 
sual worship of nature, which derogated from the 
rights of God, and obscured and overlaid all the great 
truths of primitive religion, the contradictions and 
absurdities which the different systems of paganism 
exhibited, drove back the heathen from the temple 
with his reason perplexed, his conscience disturbed, 
his passions unchecked, the problem of existence 
imperfectly solved. 

This condition of the heathen, happily, we cannot 
realize, because we live under a blessed Dispensation, 
where such moral discord is unknown. Christianity, 
(and I speak only of perfect or Catholic Christianity) 



Christianity and Heathenism, 4 1 3 

— Christianity is the rehgion of harmony. It is the reli- 
gion of harmony ; for it more than satisfies the reason, 
fills up the yearnings of the heart after happiness, en- 
lightens the conscience, controls the passions, purifies 
and exalts the feelings, and mortifies the rebelHous 
senses. That harmony we find in the close union 
between the new and the two elder Dispensations, 
that had preceded, and foreshadowed, and prepared 
the way for the Christian. Harmony, ineffable har- 
mony, we find between the different dogmas of that 
religion, as well as between its doctrines, its worship, 
and its discipline. Harmony, too, is manifest between 
its whole system, and the analogies of reason, the 
moral constitution of man, and the operations of ex- 
ternal nature. Its history, too, presents the triumph 
of harmony; for it shews it solving one difficulty 
after another, overcoming all opposition, rising supe- 
rior to persecution, shining out more luminous in its 
doctrines after the obscurations of heresy, and stand- 
ing firmer and more compact in its evidences after the 
assaults of scepticism. Lastly, it is the religion of 
harmony ; for by its sacramental ordinances, it recon- 
ciles man with his offended God, and so restores con- 
cord between his distracted faculties. 

But, if Christianity be the religion of harmony, 
surely Paganism is the religion of dissonance. This 
dissonance we find between the primitive truths it had 
retained, and the errors it embraced. The same is 
manifest in the utter contradictions of its different 



4 1 4 Freemasonry. 

systems — in the variations of the same system — in the 
radical differences of its mysteries — in the opposite 
modes of worshipping the same Divinity ; for, as the 
Hindoos say, *^ there is a right-hand and a left-hand 
mode of worshipping the same deity ; " — lastly, in the 
antagonism between its esoteric and exoteric, or public 
and private teaching. What a dissonance, too, be- 
tween belief and practice ! How often could pagan- 
ism cry out with the Roman poet : " Video meliora 
proboque^ deteriora sequor.^^ In a word, the moral and 
intellectual discord which the sin of our first parents 
had introduced into the world, heathenism perpetuated 
and augmented. It was a strange world of flickering 
lights and shadows, wherein unregenerate man groped 
his way painfully along. Hence the eagerness with 
which the cultivated heathen sought for a solution of 
his doubts, and for the moral guidance of his life; 
hence the ardour with which he sometimes questioned 
philosophy on the end of his existence, and on the 
truths that were to make him happy here and here- 
after ; hence the zeal with which he sought initiation 
in the mysteries or secret rites. But philosophy, even 
the purest, is no substitute for religion. Philosophy 
at best defends religion j philosophy conducts to reli- 
gion ; but philosophy is not religion itself. Man, de- 
pendent on a Being to whom he owes his existence 
and his preservation, must needs have recourse to 
prayer ; and man, conscious of having offended that 
great Being, must feel the need of expiatory sacrifice. 



The Mysteries of Eleusis. 415 

Ratiocination is the life of philosophy. Tradition^ 
resting on the authority of revelation,' is the medium 
of religion. And observe, this holds good of all reli- 
gions and of all philosophies, true or false. No philo- 
sopher ever claimed for his own system more than a 
human authority ; and no religion, (and this is espe- 
cially true of the false religions of heathenism,) but 
pretended to a Divine origin and a Divine mission. 
This pretension was, of course, false as regarded the 
errors of heathenism, but well founded in respect to 
those truths it had borrowed from the primitive Reve- 
lation. 

It is very remarkable that, while the history of 
ancient philosophy presents very few examples of 
moral conversions wrought by even its best systems, 
(such, for example, as that of Polemo, who, by the 
study of Platonism was reclaimed from vice to a life 
of virtue ;) there are many testimonies of the ancients 
as to the very beneficial influence of the mysteries, 
and especially those of Eleusis, on the conduct of the 
initiated. These mysteries, had space permitted, I 
would have gladly described ; but the abundance and 
the variety of matters I have to bring before your 
notice this evening, preclude the possibility of such a 
description. Suffice it to say, that the main subject 
of celebration in these mysteries was the Myth of 
Demeter or Ceres, and of Persephone or Proserpine. 
And I may here observe, that the worship of these 
subterranean divinities had a more earnest and mys- 



4 1 6 Freemasonry, 

tical import than was usually found in the gay and 
voluptuous mythology of the Greeks. 

The Myth of Ceres and Proserpine, represented in 
a succession of visions in the Eleusinian Mysteries, 
symbolized the institution of marriage and of agricul- 
ture, or property in its most concrete form — one the 
basis of social life, the other of human sustenance. 

The myth symbolized also the decay and dissolu- 
tion of the mortal body in the earth, and the rise of 
the soul to a better and immortal life. The kindled 
torch, too, which was passed from hand to hand, 
signified, perhaps, the successive phases in the eternal 
destiny of the soul. 

The neophyte, first appearing clad in the skins of 
wild beasts, and then represented as casting them off, 
denoted the transition from savage to civilized life. 

"The Mysteries of Eleusis," says the profound 
German mythologist, Creuzer, "did not only teach 
resignation, but (as we see by the verses of the 
Homeric hymn to Ceres, sung on those occasions) 
they afforded consoling promises of a better futurity. 
' Happy is the mortal,' it is there said, ^ who hath 
been able to contemplate these grand scenes ! But 
he who hath not taken part in these holy ceremonies, 
is for ever deprived of a like lot, even when death has 
drawn him down into its gloomy abodes.'^' Creuzer 
adds, " It is conjectured (and rightly, in our opinion) 
that these verses of the Homeric songster were pre- 
sent to the mind of Sophocles, when, in lines pre- 



The Eleusinian Hymns. 417 

seiTed by Plutarch, he exclaims : * Thrice blessed 
those mortals who, after having witnessed these sacred 
mysteries, descend to Hades. For them alone that 
abode is one of life ; to the others it is full of misery.' '^ 
And with these lines of Sophocles may be compared 
the following verses of Pindar, preserved by the 
learned Greek father, Clemens Alexandrinus, and 
which, as he tells us^ were in reference to the Eleusi- 
nian Mysteries. " Happy he," says the lyric poet, 
" who after having beheld those ceremonies, descends 
into the depths of the earth. He knows the end of 
life \ he knows the beginnmg given by Jove." Pindar 
here alludes to the second birth, or the new life 
beyond the tomb. These hymns served to explain to 
the neophytes of Eleusis the purport of the popular 
myths, and the nature of the visions brought before 
their eyes. But, in the lesser mysteries, which pre- 
ceded the greater, the initiated received some pre- 
paratoiy instruction. Myths, allegories, symbols, 
ceremonies, hymns, were the usual modes of rehgious 
instruction prevalent in remote antiquity. Even 
among the Hebrews there was no public preaching 
till after the Babylonish captivity; and then it was 
practised not in the Temple itself, but in the syna- 
gogues. And as to the heathens, Leibnitz long ago 
observed, " that they neither practised preaching, nor 
put forth any formularies or confessions of behef." 

The doctrines taught in the Eleusinian Mysteries 
are thus summed up by a living Catholic writer: 

2 D 



41 8 Freemasonry. 

"One supreme God — the eternity of matter — the 
immortaUty of the soul — the deification of the ele- 
ments and of the heavenly bodies — free-will — a judg- 
ment after death — the metempsychosis, and eternal 
felicity after certain expiatory punishments in the 
next world ; such," says he, " it appears to us, were 
the dogmas taught in these mysteries." "^ 

The estimable and learned Silvestre de Sacy, too, 
says, " that the impure emblems, so frequently exhi- 
bited in heathen worship, were not displayed in the 
initiations of Eleusis." 

Of the salutary influence of these mysteries on 
moral life, we have, besides the testimony of the 
Greek poets just cited, that of eminent orators and 
historians. 

My limits will not allow me to cite the remarkable 
passages of the orator Andocides,t and of the rheto- 
rician IsocrateSjJ on this matter; but I must content 
myself with the testimony of two writers, who, at the 
close of classical antiquity, ratify the judgments of 
the ancients on this subject. In his work, " De Le- 
gibus,^' Cicero thus eulogizes the Mysteries of Eleusis : 
" Nam mihi quum multa eximia divinaque videntur 
Athenae tuae peperisse, atque in vita hominum attul- 
isse, tum nihil melius illis mysteriis, quibus ex agresti 
immanique vita exculti ad humanitatem et mitigati 
sumus : Initiaque, ut appellantur, ita re vera principia 

* Cesare Cantu, Hist. Univ., t. i., p. 259. 

f De Myst., ss. 31, % Panegyr., c. vi., p. 20. 



The Mysteries of Ele usis. 4 1 9 

vitae cognovimus ; neque solum cum laetitia vivendi 
rationem accepimus, sed etiam cum spe meliore mo- 
riendi."* And Diodorus Siculus, somewhat later, thus 
records the general opinion : " It is said," he writes, 
"that those who have been initiated in those mys- 
teries, become more pious, more just, and in every 
respect better men." t 

These initiations must not be confounded with the 
Bacchic Mysteries, which even at an early period 
partook of a licentious character. But at the time 
when Christianity was preached to the heathen world, 
the Mysteries of Eleusis had already much degene- 
rated. 

You will not of course misunderstand me. You 
will not suppose, after what I have said of paganism, 
that I am attributing to these mysteries any super- 
natural influence, or wishing you to beheve that these 
poor, weak elements of religion, where truth was at 
best clouded with so much error, could produce a 
perfect moral regeneration. I only mean to say, that 
as, under the Christian dispensation, theological and 
philosophical speculations and researches, unaccom- 
panied with acts of humility and prayer, will not lead 
those outside the true Church to any satisfactory 
result; so we find something (though in an. infinitely 

* De Legibus, lib. xi., c. 14. 

+ Tivcardai (pam koI (vaepearepovs kol biKaioripovs Koi 
Kara nap ^eXTLovas iavT^v tovs rav fivarepiav Koivcojrqo-avras* 

— Dwd. Sic, lib. v., p. 48. 



420 Freemasonry. 

inferior degree) analogous in heathenism. Ancient 
philosophy, as it appears, was incapable of working a 
moral reform; but the most respectable testimony- 
assures us, that those who approached the shrines of 
Eleusis, and beheld unveiled the antique majesty of 
traditions, and there sought out the truth not by rea- 
soning only, but by supphcation also, returned better 
and worthier men. Hence it is a remarkable fact, 
that the Pythagoreans, who are admitted to have been 
the best and the purest of the Greeks, were closely 
connected with these mysteries, as well as with the 
Orphic theology, which there played so important a 
part. 

Such were the nature and the tendency of these 
celebrated mysteries, from which Freemasonry derives 
its descent. But how hollow and absurd is this pre- 
tension, I shall clearly shew, when I analyze the reli- 
gious tenets of this institution. The frivolous deism, 
which is at the bottom of the Masonic mystery, will 
then appear to have neither a doctrinal affinity, nor a 
historical connexion with the initiations of Eleusis. 

Nor are the endeavours of another class of Free- 
masons, to deduce their order from the ancient Jews, 
a whit more successful. No ancient Jew could be 
found, who was not a believer in the law, and the 
prophets, and the Messiah to come. The spiritual- 
minded Hebrew, indeed, understood the purport and 
the significance of the legal ceremonial. He knew 
that it was of but temporary obligation, and that it 



The yewish Church. 421 

prefigured a better and a higher order of things ; but 
yet he bowed to its authority, for he recognized its 
Divine origin and awful sanctions, as well as the lofty 
purposes it was destined to subserve. 

Moreover, by the side of the written law, there was 
a chain of traditions preserved by the Jewish Church, 
and which it faithfully clung to. The Hebrews ever 
believed that, with the delivery of the law, certain 
explanations were intrusted to their priesthood by 
their inspired lawgiver. In the New Testament we 
are told that the law and the prophets bear witness 
to Christ. Yet in looking over the law, we find 
but one luminous passage clearly prophetic of the 
Messiah. Yet the Hebrew, enlightened by the tra- 
ditionary explanations of his Church, well understood 
the high significance of ordinances, rites, ceremonies, 
and sacrifices, as typical of the character and the 
office of the Redeemer to come. Thus an impassable 
abyss lies between the monotheism of the ancient 
Jews, and that vague, undefined, purely personal re- 
ligion, called Deism, which, as we shall see, forms the 
basis of Masonry. 

The patriarchal theism was founded on Revelation, 
and deduced from that source its whole system of 
doctrine, morals, and worship. It recognized the 
necessity of public prayer and animal sacrifice, and 
assigned the functions of the priesthood, not to each 
individual, but to the head of the family only. 

The Mosaic law, though, indeed, local in its desti- 



42 2 Freemasonry. 

nation, filled up the outline of doctrine and ritual in 
the elder dispensation, introduced in order to guard 
the chosen people against the dangers of idolatry, 
a far stricter discipline and a more elaborate cere- 
monial system, and by appointing a separate sacer- 
dotal body, transferred the priesthood from domestic 
to public life. Both these dispensations, too, pointed 
unerringly to all the mysteries of future redemption. 

Not so the modern deism, which falsely styles it- 
self the Religion of Nature. It is based, not on 
Revelation, but on the private judgment of each in- 
dividual. Here religion is purely and essentially 
personal^ devoid not of sacrifice only, but of public 
prayer, and without the intervention of any priest- 
hood, public or domestic. Its doctrinal system is so 
vague, that some of its partisans have called in ques- 
tion even the immortality of the soul, and agree in 
nothing, save in the belief in a Supreme Being. 

So far from being prophetic of Christianity, as was 
the elder religion of nature, deism sets itself up in 
opposition to Christ, and denies His Revelation. 

It is not even, like the better elements in heathen- 
ism, a corruption of primitive Religion, but something 
directly antagonistic to it. In a word, it is what the 
great Bossuet long ago called it, " a disguised or prac- 
tical atheismJ' 

It is now time to sketch the history of the Masonic 
Order. 

Freemasonry in its first beginnings must be traced 



The Mediceval L odges. 423 

to the Masonic Lodges of the Middle Ages, in which 
the architects held their sittings, and framed statutes 
for their corporation. Thus, it is well known that 
when Erwin of Steinbach had begun the glorious 
Cathedral of Strasburg, he founded in that city a 
lodge, the centre and the model of other lodges 
spread throughout Europe. The heads of each of 
those lodges assembled at Ratisbon on the 25th April 
1459, and drew up the Act of Incorporation, which 
instituted in perpetuity the lodge of Strasburg as the 
chief lodge, and its president as the Grand-Master 
of the Freemasons of Germany. The institute was 
formally sanctioned by the Emperor Maximilian in 
the year 1498, and that sanction was afterwards rati- 
fied by the Emperors Charles the Fifth and Ferdinand 
the First. These ordinances, subsequently renewed, 
were printed in the year 1563. 

The masters, journeymen, and apprentices formed 
a corporation, having a special jurisdiction in different 
localities. But the lodge of Strasburg was pre-eminent 
above the rest, and, in conformity with the statutes, 
pronounced a definitive judgment in all causes 
brought under its cognizance. In order not to be 
confounded with the vulgar mechanics, who could 
handle only the hammer and the trowel, the Free- 
masons invented signs of mutual recognition, and 
certain ceremonies of initiation. A traditionary se- 
cret was handed down, revealed only to the initiated, 
and that according to the degrees they had attained 



424 Freemasonry. 

to in the corporation. They adopted for symbols the 
instruments of their craft — the square, the level, the 
compass, and the hammer. 

In course of time, it appears that the masonic 
lodges, in order to secure patrons and friends to their 
fraternity, admitted among their associates individuals 
totally unacquainted with the architectural art. And 
so, by degrees, other objects besides those connected 
with their craft, engaged the attention of the brethren. 
The mystery which enveloped their proceedings was 
common to all the trade-associations of the Middle 
Ages. 

In the reign of Queen Elizabeth, the Government 
began to entertain suspicions of these masonic lodges, 
and interdicted them. In the time of the Common- 
wealth, the royalists of England, in order to concert 
measures against the dominant tyranny, had recourse 
to secret political societies ; and these societies were 
now engrafted on the masonic lodges, which, from 
the number of men of various professions they ad- 
mitted into their ranks, were convenient receptacles 
for carrying on political plots. The scriptural sym- 
bols and scriptural phraseology employed in their 
lodges, were well suited to the spirit and habits of 
the time. Ramsay, in his " History of Freemasonry," 
does not deny that the lodges powerfully contributed 
to the restoration of Charles the Second. 

After the Revolution of 1688, the exiled Jacobites 
introduced this modern political Freemasonry into 



The First French Lodges. 425 

France ; but the Government of Louis the Fourteenth 
checked its diffusion. Under the regency, established 
on the demise of that monarch, the Enghsh Pretender 
founded several lodges in that country ; and the Re- 
gent himself, a sated voluptuary, eagerly sought in 
these secret societies for some new source of gratifica- 
tion. In the year 1725, the first lodge in France 
was held under the presidency of three Englishmen, 
Lord Derwentwater, Sir John Maskelyne, and Sir 
Hugh Tighe. 

In the year 1736, on the departure of Lord Har- 
nonester, second Grand-Master of the Order in 
France, the court intimated, that if the choice to that 
dignity fell on a Frenchman, he should be sent to the 
Bastille. The Duke d'Antin was, however, elected ; 
and under him French masonry attained to a certain 
consistence. In the year 1744, during the presidency 
of the Duke de Clermont, a prince of the blood, 
masonic lodges were expressly prohibited by the 
Government ; but this prohibition served only to in- 
crease and spread them in the provinces. At length 
the lodges in Paris emancipated themselves from all 
dependence on those in England. 

A Scotch gentleman, the Chevalier Ramsay, was 
one of the most zealous promoters of Freemasonry in 
France. He had been bred up in the principles of 
Calvinism, and then having fallen into a state of 
scepticism, had, in order to obtain a solution of his 
religious doubts, travelled in Holland and France, 



426 Freemasonry 

where he was converted to the Catholic Church by 
the great Fenelon. As a Jacobite, he was attached 
to an association that, as he confesses, had rendered 
great services to the House of Stuart ; and as tutor 
to the sons of the Pretender, he had the best oppor- 
tunities for furthering its success. A zealous Catholic 
and a devoted royalist, the advocate and promoter of 
Freemasonry ! How repugnant is this fact to our 
modern notions ! But observe, the Church had as 
yet pronounced no judgment on the matter. Ramsay 
proposed, as Grand-Master of the Order, to convene 
at Paris a council, consisting of deputies from, all 
the masonic lodges in Europe ; but the Prime Minis- 
ter, Cardinal Fleury, induced him to abandon this 
project 

" The Society of Freemasons," says a living Italian 
historian, " retained in Great Britain a serious charac- 
ter j but in other countries it was soon converted into 
convivial meetings, and became a sort of gay heresy, 
apparently innoxious, and which even by acts of bene- 
ficence sought to render itself useful. Its mysterious- 
ness served to attract and to excite the imaginative : 
the visionary thought to perceive in the Order a school 
of chimerical perfection and of transcendental mys- 
ticism : the charlatan, an abundant source of illu- 
sions : some, under the mantle of its name, practised 
knavery ; but a greater number looked on this institu- 
tion as a means for the relief of indigence. It was 
impossible that Governments should not look with 



Proscribed by Church and State. 427 

distrust on those secret assemblies, and on that mys- 
terious understanding between men belonging to dif- 
ferent countries. Hence, all masonic lodges were 
proscribed, first in France in the year 1729, then in 
Holland in 1735, ^^^ successively in Flanders, in 
Sweden, in Poland, in Spain, in Portugal, in Hungary, 
and in Switzerland. At Vienna, in the year 1743, a 
lodge was burst into by soldiers : the freemasons had 
to give up their swords, and were conducted to prison, 
or set at large on their parole. As personages of 
high rank were of the number, great sensation was 
excited, and rumours were rife. But the masons de- 
clared that, as they were bound by the promise of 
secrecy, they were unable to reply to any judicial 
interrogatory. The Government, satisfied with this 
plea, set the prisoners free, and contented itself with 
prohibiting any more assembhes of the kind. 

"Already, in 1738, Pope Clement the Twelfth had 
excommunicated the Freemasons in Italy."* Benedict 
the Fourteenth renewed the anathemas ;t and there- 
upon, in the kingdom of Naples, where the Order was 
widely spread, Charles the Third applied to the mem- 
bers of this society the penalties enacted against all 
disturbers of the pubHc peace. Other princes fol- 
lowed a like pohcy. 

Such is a brief historical sketch of the rise and early 
progress of Freemasonry. We have seen how this 
modern sect grew out of the corporations of the 
* Hist. Univ., C. Cantu, vol. ix., p. 216. f FitV/^ Memorandum. 



428 Freemasonry : 

purely architectural masons of the Middle Ages; how 
it gradually assumed a political character ; and how 
in England, in the seventeenth century, it was the 
refuge and the defence of the partisans of monarchy^ 
in their endeavours to throw off a detested revolu- 
tionary yoke. We have seen, too, that men of most 
estimable character and exalted position had attached 
themselves to this society. 

How then could an institution, apparently so praise- 
worthy, have drawn down the censures of the Church ] 
How could it have aroused the suspicions and the 
hostility of so many different Governments *? 

Let us investigate the matter calmly and with care. 
In the first place, the Catholic Church condemns all 
societies which, like that of the Freemasons, impose 
secret oaths. The Scripture tells us that " our speech 
should be yea, yea, and nay, nay ; and that it is not 
lawful to swear." The Church, which brings a mes- 
sage from God, and speaks to us in the name of God, 
can exact an oath of us ; and so can the civil power ; 
for it has received from God the sword of justice, and, 
for the ends of justice, it bids us invoke the name of 
the Supreme Author of all right. 

Secondly, the oaths of the Freemason are not only 
secret, but, at the best, unnecessary ; for, should we 
even be unable to prove that in very many countries 
the ultimate objects of Freemasonry are most culpable, 
yet all admit that the matters sworn to in the minor 
grades are most frivolous and puerile. But a frivolous 



Its Dangers. 429 

or unnecessary oath is in the eyes of the Church a 
guilty oath. 

Next to secret oaths, there is another offence 
chargeable on the Masonic, as on all other secret 
societies. This is, that it destroys human freedom, 
as it removes all individual responsibility. The mason 
of one grade knows not the projects of the brothers of 
a higher grade, nor the lodges of one country the 
schemes, the principles, and the workings of those of 
another. The individual is the blind, passive instru- 
ment of an order, whose ultimate aims are wrapped 
up in secrecy. He is like a man who, without a 
lamp, enters into a dark cavern, whose length and 
breadth he knows not, nor the tortuous passages that 
cross the main path. Where the ends of an institu- 
tion are kept secret, and the means only are avowed, 
judgment is at fault, and the individual cannot esti- 
mate the extent of the responsibility he incurs for the 
errors of his order. 

But, in the third place, a more serious charge yet 
attaches to Freemasonry. There are some secret 
societies, whose professed aim is the removal of cer- 
tain local grievances, or a violent overthrow of some 
particular government. But the Masonic Order pre- 
tends to be in possession of a secret to make men 
better and happier than Christ, His apostles, and 
His Church have made or can make them. Mon- 
strous pretension ! How is this esoteric teaching 
consistent with the full and final revelation of Divine 



430 Freemasonry 

truths? If in the deep midnight of heathenism, the 
sage had been justified in seeking in the Mysteries of 
Eleusis for a keener apprehension of the truths of 
primitive rehgion, how does this justify the mason in 
the mid-day effulgence of Christianity, to tell mankind 
that he has a wonderful secret for advancing them in 
virtue and in happiness — a secret unknown to the 
Incarnate God, and to the Church with which, as He 
promised, the Paraclete should abide for ever % And 
even the Protestant, who rejects the teaching of that 
unerring Church, if he admits Christianity to be a 
final Revelation, must scout the pretensions of a 
society that claims the possession of moral truths 
unknown to the Christian religion. 

The very pretensions of the mason are thus impious 
and absurd. He stands condemned on his own 
shewing \ and any inquiry into the doctrines and the 
workings of his order becomes utterly superfluous. 
But when, further, he obstinately withholds from the 
knowledge of the competent authority his marvellous 
remedies for the moral and social maladies of men, 
what is he but the charlatan, who refuses to submit to 
the examination of a medical board his pretended 
wonderful cures % 

On this subject Frederick Schlegel, in a work which 
I translated in my youth, has expressed himself with 
his characteristic wisdom. Alluding to the Masonic 
Order, he says : " Any secret spiritual association, 
diffused at once among Christians and Mahometans, 



Inconsistent with the Christian Scheme, 431 

cannot be of a very Christian nature, nor long con- 
tinue so. Nay, the very idea of an esoteric society 
for the propagation of any secret doctrines is not com- 
patible with the very principle of Christianity itself; 
for Christianity is a Divine mystery, which, according 
to the intention of its Divine Founder, lies open to 
all, and is daily exposed on every altar. For this 
reason, in a revelation imparted to all alike, there can 
be no secrecy, as in the pagan mysteries, where, by 
the side of the popular mythology and the public 
religion of the state, certain esoteric doctrines were 
inculcated to the initiated only. This would be to 
constitute a church within a church — a measure to be 
as little tolerated or justified as an imperiMm in im- 
perio ; and in an age where worldly interests, and 
public or secret views of policy, have far greater 
ascendancy than religious opinions or sentiments, 
such a secret parasitical church would unquestionably, 
as experience has already proved, be very soon trans- 
formed into a secret directory for political changes 
and revolutions.^'* So far this great writer. 

I have clearly shewn, I trust, that the very prin- 
ciple on which Freemasonry is founded, is incompati- 
ble with the nature and the objects of the Christian 
Revelation. 

Let us now more fully investigate the constitution, 
the principles, and the moral and social influence of 
this Order. 

* Philos. of Hist., p. 456. Bohn, seventh ed. 



432 Freemasonry. 

In the first place, observe the dates of the *first 
Papal Bulls of Condemnation, 1738 and 175 1 — the 
periods of the rise and the development of those irre- 
ligious and revolutionary principles, which reached 
their culminating-point in 1790. From their high 
watch-tower on the Seven Hills, the successors of 
Peter saw the coming storm ; they discerned the black 
clouds big with tempest. And among those clouds 
none then hung more portentously over the European 
horizon than those secret societies, that henceforth be- 
gan to gather into denser and darker masses. It has 
ever been the privilege of those pontiffs to be able to 
warn Europe of the dangers that menaced her; and on 
this occasion their warnings were not unheeded, as we 
have seen, by the civil governments of the day. How 
judicious are the following observations of a late 
Church historian of France ! " When we consider," 
says M. Picot, " that Freemasonry was born with irre- 
ligion ; that it grew up with it ; that it has kept pace 
with its progress ; that it has never pleased biit men 
either impious or indifferent about religion ; and that 
it has always been regarded with disfavour by zealous 
Catholics ; we can only regard it as an institution bad 
in itself, or at least dangerous in its effects."* 

Let us hear on the same subject a Scotch Protes- 
tant writer. Professor Robison of Edinburgh, who, 
about sixty years ago published a work, entitled, 
*' Proofs of a Conspiracy against all the EstabHshed 
* M^ moires Ecclesiastiques du i8eme sidcle, t. ii., pp. 163, 164. 



Its Mischievous Effects. 433 

Religions and Governments of Europe/' This writer 
had been originally a member of the Masonic Society, 
which he subsequently abandoned. The question 
which now engages our attention he reduces within a 
small compass. 

"If/' says he, 'Uhere be a necessity for secrecy, 
the purpose of the association is either frivolous or it 
is selfish. Now, in either case the danger of such 
secret assemblies is manifest. Mere frivolity can never 
seriously occupy men come to age. And, accordingly, 
we see that in every corner of Europe where Free- 
masonry is estabhshed, the lodges have become seed- 
beds of pubHc mischief I beheve that no ordinary 
brother will say that the occupations in the lodges are 
anything better than frivolous, very frivolous indeed. 
The distribution of charity needs be no secret ; and it 
is but a very small part of the employment of the 
meeting." Then the writer goes on to say that, fri- 
volity not furnishing sufficient occupation to the mind, 
there is the danger that the meetings will be employed 
to purposes which require concealment. " When this 
is the case," he continues, " self-interest alone must 
prompt and rule, and now there is no length that 
some men will not go when they think themselves in 
no danger of detection and punishment. The whole 
proceedings of the secret societies of Freemasons on 
the Continent (and, I am authorized to say, of some 
lodges in Britain) have taken one turn, and this turn 

is perfectly natural. In all countries there are men of 

2 E 



434 Freemasonry, 

licentious morals And where can the 

sentiments or schemes of discontented men find such 
safe utterance or probable support, as in a secret so- 
ciety f* 

Such is the severe judgment pronounced on this 
association by two learned writers, — one a Catholic, 
the other a Protestant, — and who by reading, and the 
last even by personal observation, had made it a sub- 
ject of serious study. B)it here, on the very threshold 
of this inquiry, we are met with the objection : If 
Freemasonry be what these writers and others de- 
scribe, how comes it to pass that so many estimable 
and amiable individuals in the last and in the present 
century, in Catholic as in Protestant countries, have 
been members of the society % If it be revolutionary, 
as you say, how is it that so many personages of high 
rank and illustrious' birth, and even princes of the 
blood, have been its patrons and protectors % If it 
has such anti-Christian tendencies as you tell us, how 
is it that many sincerely religious men, CathoHc and 
Protestant, have belonged to it? How is it, again, 
that, even after the great social catastrophe of 1790, 
which Freemasonry is alleged to have had such a share 
in bringing about, men of exalted position, especially 
in Great Britain, should still be found among its asso- 
ciates and patrons % 

When we come to look more nearly into the real 

* Proofs of a Conspiracy, &c. By Professor Robison, pp. 
464-6, Dublin: 1798. 



Patronage of the Great Explained. 435 

state of things, these objections will be found not to 
carry with them much weight. In the first place, in 
a society where there are more than thirty grades, and 
each with a proportionate scale of knowledge, it may 
well be supposed that the great majority of the mem- 
bers are ignorant of its ulterior designs. Again, it 
must, as before, be observed, that as the Protestant 
Churches have not interdicted these societies, Pro- 
testants, in frequenting them^ incur not the same de- 
gree of responsibility which attaches to the Cathohc 
members. Further, the Order of Freemasons, like 
every other secret association, varies a great deal with 
the circumstances of time and place, and reflects the 
temper of society. Moreover, the fact that men of 
rank and fortune are to be found at the head of an 
association, is no proof that it is not revolutionary. 
"All revolutions," says the great Bossuet, "are 
brought about by ambitious grandees, heading men 
of desperate fortunes.'' History shews, too, that 
fanaticism, whether religious or political, is often more 
powerful than self-interest. And more especially was 
this the case in the last century, when the irreligion 
which infected a large portion of the Continental no- 
bihty smote them with a judicial blindness, that made 
them insensible to the most palpable interests of their 
own order, as well as of all other classes of society. 
And, besides, the despotism in the Protestant Conti- 
nental states, and the absolutism prevalent since the 
age of Louis the Fourteenth in many CathoHc coun- 



436 Freemasonry. 

tries, by depriving the nobility of an active political 
existence, blunted their political capacity, and made 
them blind to many dangers, and, among others, to 
those arising from secret societies. 

But the terrible experiences of the last seventy 
years, as well as the reiterated censures of the Church, 
have at last opened the eyes of all Catholics, be they 
high or low, to the many evils thence arising to re- 
ligion and to social order. 

Then, as regards these countries, they have not felt 
the shock of those revolutions which have convulsed 
the Continent, and are therefore less alive to the dan- 
gers from secret societies. Yet Professor Robison 
shews that, in the last agitated years of the eighteenth 
century, some of the British masonic lodges became 
infected with a revolutionary spirit. 

Well-regulated parhamentary institutions, too, exert 
undoubtedly, in the long run, an influence antagonis- 
tic to these occult associations. 

At all events, it is remarkable that political Free- 
masonry, which had its rise in England, should, ac- 
cording to the testimony of foreign as well as of native 
writers, have ever retained a more innocuous character 
in that country. 

Further, that even in the Continental lodges the 
greater part of masons were ignorant of the danger- 
ous tendencies of the Order, is a fact equally well at- 
tested. Let us on these two points hear the Abb^ 
Barruel, who in his elaborate work entitled the " Me- 



Good Men in its Lower Grades. 437 

moirs of Jacobinism ^' thus speaks. " In treating of 
Freemasonry," says he, ^' truth and justice rigorously 
compel us to begin with an exception, that exculpates 
the greater part of those brethren who have been in- 
itiated, and who would have conceived a just horror 
for this association, had they been able to foresee 
that it could ever make them contract obligations 
which militated against the duties of the religious man 
and of the true citizen. England, in particular, is full 
of those upright men who, as excellent citizens, and 
belonging to all stations of life, are proud of being 
masons, and who may be distinguished from the 
others by ties which only appear to unite them more 
closely in the bonds of charity and fraternal affec- 
tion." 

He adds, " For a considerable length of time a like 
exception might have been made of the generality of 
lodges, both in France and Germany." .... 

In short, he concludes, " The number of exceptions 
to be made for upright masons is beyond the concep- 
tion of those who are not thoroughly acquainted with 
the principles and the proceedings of the secf ^ Thus 
far the Abbe Barruel. 

As regards the more exceptional character of the 
masonic lodges in these countries. Professor Robison 
of Edinburgh confirms the statement of the French 
abbe. *^ While the Freemasonry of the Continent," 
says he, " was tricked out in all the frippery of stars 
* Memoirs of Jacobinism, vol. ii., pp. 273-5. 



43 S Freemasonry. 

and ribbons, or was perverted to the most profligate 
and infamous purposes, and the lodges became semi- 
naries of foppery, sedition, and impiety, it has re- 
tained in Britain its original form, simple and una- 
dorned, and the lodges have remained the scenes of 
innocent merriment, or meetings of charity and bene- 
ficence."* 

In this opinion the great German writer, whom I 
have already cited, also concurs. 

Having now traced the history of this association, 
then by respectable testimony justified the judg- 
ments which the Church has pronounced upon it, and 
having, afterwards, even in condemning the institution, 
acquitted large portions of its members of all cogni- 
zance of its impious and anti-social tendencies, I pro- 
ceed to examine its constitution and its doctrines. 

Now, before I enter into an examination of the 
secret doctrines of Masonry, there are principles and 
practices on the very surface of this society, which (as 
gentlemen, who from conscientious motives have 
quitted the Order, have assured me) shocked them 
from the very first. 

First, there is the system of exclusive beneficence. 

The practice of costly conviviality is not in itself 
favourable to charity ; and the sums expended by the 
masons on their banquets exceed beyond comparison 
the moneys bestowed in alms. But this is not the 
point I wish to insist on. I speak of that restriction 
* Proofs of a Conspiracy, p. 522. 



Its False Morality. 439 

of charity to the brethren of the Order — a restriction 
so repugnant to the spirit of Christianity, which, 
though it assigns the first claim to those of the 
" household of the faith," embraces all mankind within 
the comprehensive range of its beneficence. 

Again, Freemasonry boasts that its brethren, when 
by chance they encounter each other on the battle- 
field, are led by signs of mutual recognition to save 
each other's lives. There is surely a great illusion 
here. The soldier, unless his public duty — his duty 
to his sovereign and his country — bid him in the 
mortal encounter slay his adversary, is bound to spare 
his life, whether he belong or no to the right worship- 
ful company of masons ! And such compliance with 
arbitrary and factitious engagements interferes with 
the sacred dictates of morality. It is otherwise with 
the claims of kindred in the hostile engagement ; for, 
as they are anterior, so they rise in many cases supe- 
rior to the obligations of civil society, and belong to 
an exceptional order of things, which even Free- 
masonry, in the madness of its pride, cannot pre- 
tend to. 

Then how very refined — how very exalted is the 
masonic code of ethics ! The mason is enjoined not 
to practise the arts of seduction on any members of 
the family of a brother-mason ! So this brotherhood, 
not content with restricting the precept of charity, 
restricts that of purity; — a restriction which, I do not 
hesitate to say, the better heathenism would have 



440 Freemasonry. 

spurned; for it based morality, not on the conven- 
tional rules of any society, but on the eternal and 
immutable laws of God. I may add, that such arbi- 
trary restrictions throw ridicule on the Divine precept, 
and, so far from checking, tend to promote sensuaHty. 

Further, we see how by its exclusive, egotistic mo- 
rality, (if I may use the expression,) as well as by its 
classification of all mankind into the two orders, — the 
profane and the initiated, the enlightened and the 
ignorant, — this institution tends to foster a pride of 
caste and a personal arrogance most adverse to all 
religious feeling and moral improvement. 

Lastly, there are atrocious oaths and ceremonies in 
the higher grades of Masonry, which tend to harden 
the heart, and to encourage cruelty and crime. Such 
is the custom of leading the initiated with his eyes 
bandaged into a dark chamber, bringing before him 
a manikin stuffed with bladders full of blood, and 
bidding him avenge the death of Adoniram, the favour- 
ite hero, as we shall see, of Masonry, by plunging his 
poniard into the breast of the supposed victim. The 
bandage is then removed, and the initiated, who had 
inwardly consented to be the instrument of crime, 
discovers the horrid farce. But how calculated is 
that theatric semblance of assassination to cherish the 
spirit of revenge and of all the darker passions ! 

These are things lying, as I have said, on the very 
surface of this institution, most of which are known to 
all the members of the society, and which ought to 



Its Degrees and Symbols. 441 

deter a wise man and an earnest Christian from join- 
ing it. 

Now, as to the constitution of this Order, it is 
divided into thirty-three grades ; but its main degrees 
are six — that of Apprentice, of Fellow-craft, of Master, 
of Elect, of Rosicrucian, and of Kadosch, There are a 
distinct ceremonial, signs of recognition, pass-words, 
and grips, for each degree. This great quantity of 
degrees, and their dependence and subordination, are 
calculated to insure secrecy, as well as to augment -the 
numbers, wealth, and influence of the Order. The 
whole machinery is constructed with such skill, that it 
can be easily managed by a few hands. In the cere- 
monies of initiation into the various degrees, every- 
thing is devised that can strike the imagination, awaken 
curiosity, or excite terror. 

As to the masonic symbols, they are thus described 
as existing in some portions of this society, which is 
much divided in itself In a charge delivered by a 
Venerable to a brother admitted to one of the higher 
grades, it is there said that the three implements with 
which the brother has been made acquainted — the 
Bible, the compass, and the square — have a secret 
signification unknown to him. By the Bible, he is to 
understand that he is to acknowledge no other law 
but that of Adam — the law which the Almighty had 
engraved on his heart, and which is called the Law of 
Nature. The compass recalls to his mind that God 
is the central point of everything, from which every- 



44 2 Freemasonry. 

thing is equally distant, and to which everything is 
equally near. By the square he is to learn that God 
has made everything eqitaL By the cubic stone he is to 
learn^ that all his actions are equal with respect to the 
Sovereign Good.^ 

With respect to the doctrines of the Order, let us 
hear the Abbe Barruel. 

" The affected secrecy on the first principles of 
Masonry," says he, "liberty and equahty — the oath 
never to reveal that such was the basis of their doc- 
trines, shewed that there existed such an explanation 
of these words, as the sect was interested in hiding 
both from the State and from the Church. And, in 
reality, it was to attain to this explanation of the last 
mysteries, that so many trials, oaths, and degrees were 
necessary. 

" To convince the reader," continues Barruel, " how 
much these surmises are realized in the occult lodges, 
it is necessary for us to go back to the degree of 
Master, and relate the allegorical story, whereof the 
successive explanations and interpretations form the 
profound mysteries of the higher degrees. 

" In this degree of Master-Mason, the lodge is hung 
round with black. In the middle is a coffin, covered 
with a pall : the brethren standing round it in attitudes 
denoting sorrow and revenge. When the new adept 
is admitted, the Master relates to him the following 
history or fable : — 

* See Barruel, t. ii., p. 303. 



The Allegorical Story. 443 

" Adoniram presided over the payment of the work- 
men who were building the Temple by Solomon's 
orders. There were three thousand workmen. That 
each one might receive his due, Adoniram divided 
them into three classes — apprentices, fellow-craftsmen, 
and masters. He intrusted each class with a word, 
signs, and a grip, by which they might be recognized. 
Each class was to preserve the greatest secrecy as to 
these signs and words. Three of the fellow-crafts, 
wishing to know the word of the Master, and by that 
means obtain his salary, hid themselves in the Temple, 
and each posted himself at a different gate. At the 
usual time, when Adoniram came to shut the gates of 
the Temple, the first of the three fellow-crafts met 
him, and demanded the word of the masters. Adoni- 
ram refused to give it, and received a violent blow 
with a stick on his head. He flies to another gate^ is 
met, challenged, and treated in a similar manner by 
the second. Flying to the third door, he is killed 
by the fellow-craft posted there, on his refusing to 
betray the word. His assassins buried him under a 
heap of ruins, and marked the spot with a branch of 
acacia. 

" Adoniram's absence gave great uneasiness to So- 
lomon and the masters. He is sought for every- 
where : at length one of the masters discovers a 
corpse, and taking it by the finger, the finger parted 
from the hand : he took it by the wrist, and it parted 
from the arm; when the master, in astonishment, 



444 Freemasonry. ^ 

cried out, ^ Mac Benac^ which the craft interprets by 
the words, ^ the flesh parts from the bones/ 

" The history finished, the adept is informed that 
the object of the degree which he has just received is 
to recover the word lost by the death of Adoniram, 
and to revenge this martyr of the Masonic secrecy. 
The generality of masons, looking upon this history 
as no more than a fable, and the ceremonies as puerile, 
give themselves very little trouble in searching further 
into these mysteries. 

"These sports, however, assume a more serious 
aspect, when we arrive at the degree of Elect. This 
degree is subdivided into two parts : the first has the 
revenging of Adoniram for its object ; the other to 
recover the word^ or, rather, the sacred doctrine which 
it expressed, and which has been lost.^' * 

So far the Abbe Barruel. 

The last passage is very worthy of attention ; for it 
contains the whole pith of the religious and the poli- 
tical system of the Masonic Order. 

This is now the fitting place to introduce the his- 
tory of the Knight-Templars — a history which marks 
so important an era in that of the Masonic Order. 

The Order of Templars — so called from the site 
they occupied, where Solomon's Temple once stood 
— was founded in the twelfth century by Hughes des 
Payens, a nobleman of Champagne. Like the 
Knights of St John, they constituted an order at once 
* Barruel, Memoirs, t. ii., pp. 297-299. Eng. Trans. 



The Knight' Templars. 44 5 

military and religious, which had sprung up in the 
stirring and eventful period of the Crusades. To the 
three ordinary vows of poverty, chastity, and obe- 
dience, they added a fourth — namely, the defence of 
the pilgrims who visited the tomb of our Lord. 

These spiritual knights were the foremost in the 
field : to them the post of greatest danger was ever 
allotted j they were the terror of the infidel, and the 
pride of the faithful ; and great indeed were the ser- 
vices they rendered to the Christian cause. There 
was, however, in their valour, from the first, some- 
thing bordering on rashness ; and we find not in them 
that steady equanimity of character evinced by their 
rivals, the Knights Hospitallers of St John. Great 
was the favour which the Templars had deservedly 
acquired by their eminent services and heroic achieve- 
ments. Popes and emperors, princes and prelates, 
nobles and burgesses, vied wdth each other in lavish- 
ing wealth, honours, and privileges on the Order. It 
numbered many and well-endowed priories in every 
state in Europe ; and a King of Aragon went so far 
as to bequeath his kingdom to the Order: but the 
three estates justly resisted so rash and unwise a 
legacy. By degrees excessive riches introduced luxury, 
and luxury laxity, among these knights. Jealousy 
and ambition made them set the interests of their 
community above the interests of the Church and of 
Christendom : they sometimes forgot themselves so 
far as to turn their arms against their Christian 



446 Freemasonry. 

brethren, or treacherously betray their designs to the 
Moslem foe. The darkest suspicions now gathered 
around the Order ; those suspicions were soon con- 
verted into formal accusations ; and the Knight- 
Templars were tried in 1307, and in the following 
years, both before civil and ecclesiastical tribunals. 
Doctrinal aberrations and abominable crimes (in 
many respects similar to those of the ancient Mani- 
chaeans) formed the purport of the charges against 
them. In, some places the knights were found guilty; 
but in most countries they were acquitted. It was 
but a small minority that was chargeable with these 
dark transgressions against faith and morals ; and the 
great bulk of the Order was innocent, though many, 
under intimidation, had not denounced the crimes 
and impieties of their brethren. The Knights of 
Germany, Italy, Spain, Portugal, England, Scotland, 
and Ireland, had no share in these frightful disorders ; 
and it was only in France, and in Syria and Palestine, 
the guilty members of this community were to be 
found. To explain this fact, the late illustrious Ger- 
man Catholic writer, Gorres, sagaciously conjectures, 
that many nobles of the south of France, who entered 
the Order, had been already contaminated with the 
doctrinal and the moral corruptions of the Manichaean 
Albigenses — corruptions which were further aggravated 
by their intercourse with the guilty sectaries of the East. 
They thus formed an order within an order; and their 



Suppression of Order of Templars. 447 

abominable doctrines and practices remained ] un- 
known to the great majority of the knights. This 
appears to me a happy solution of a difficult historical 
problem. 

The last Grand-Master of the Order, Jacques de 
Molay, and fifty of his companions, who, under the 
violence of torture, had confessed their guilt, retracted 
their confessions. But though brought, in 13 14, be- 
fore a civil tribunal by Philip le Bel, and condemned 
as relapsed heretics, they perished at the stake so- 
lemnly protesting their innocence j and that circum- 
stance, as well as the hitherto blameless character of 
Molay, entitles his last asseverations to credence. 

Pope Clement the Fifth, though at first favourably 
disposed towards the Order, seeing, after juridical 
inquiry, the great corruption of a certain portion of 
its members, and that others, under intimidation, had 
dechned to denounce to ecclesiastical authority the 
errors and the crimes of their brethren, thought the 
safest course was to suppress the Order. It must be 
borne in mind, too, that though the great majority of 
the knights were guiltless of the dreadful errors and 
crimes chargeable on a certain portion, yet every- 
where the Order had fallen into a state of great laxity. 
In some countries the surviving Templars wree re- 
ceived into other military communities ; and in Por- 
tugal, especially, incorporated into the Order of 
Christ, they shewed themselves worthy of their an- 



448 Freemasonry. 

cient renown, and had a glorious part in the nautical 
discoveries, and in the military and maritime con- 
quests of the fifteenth century. 

" The knights," says the recent German Protestant 
historian of Masonry, " who were lucky enough to 
escape from France, assembled in one of the Scotch 
Hebrides, the Isle of Mull." '^ In this island, on the 
Feast of St John's, in the year 1307, the members of 
the Order reorganized their old institution, with its 
ancient mysteries and aims. They were, moreover, in- 
flamed with the desire of restoring the Order to its 
ancient splendour and power, as well as with the 
passion of vengeance. By their entrance into the 
Masonic Corporation, they concerted the perpetuation 
of their Order. Hence the origin of the Scotch degrees 
of Masonry. It does not appear proved, that the Mani- 
chaean principles of the condemned Templars were 
communicated to this branch of the institution, but 
only a general spirit of hostility to Church and State. 

It is to be observed that it was the remnant of 
French Templars only who entered into the Masonic 
Order. The German Knights, for example, were in- 
corporated with the Knights Hospitallers of St John. 

Let us now remark the close resemblance in the 
mysteries of the ancient Templars to those of some 
of the masonic grades. In the mysteries of the bad 
portion of these knights, the initiator said to the 

* La Franc-Mac onnerie. Par M. Eckert. Traduit de I'Alle- 
mand, par M. I'Abb^ Gyr., p. 32. Li^ge, 1854. 



Templars compared with Masons. 449 

candidate : " Swear that you believe in a God, the 
Creator of all things, who neither did, nor will die ; " 
and then follow blasphemies against the God of Chris- 
tianity. How completely doth the Jehovah of the 
Masons correspond Avith this representation! How 
completely doth this declaration correspond with the 
Rosicrucian interpretation of that inscription on the 
Cross, whereby the Jews unwittingly confessed the 
Royalty of Christ — an interpretation which for the 
sake of reverence I will not repeat, but which to- 
tally divests our ever-blessed Lord not only of His 
Divinity, but even of His Prophetical office. 

The bad portion of the Templars chose Good- 
Friday for their impious orgies. The Rosicrucians 
(an extreme sect of Masons) selected the same sacred 
day for uttering blasphemies against our Divine Re- 
deemer. 

The cry of ^' Fraternity^' among the Templars an- 
swered to that of " Liberty and Equahty '^ among the 
Masons, as both words veiled the anti-social errors of 
the one and the other. 

The Templars were bound to secrecy by the most 
terrible oaths, the violation whereof involved the 
penalty of death. The same oath subsists among 
the Masons. 

No profane being could be present at the mys- 
teries of the Templars, and armed brethren were 
placed at the door to keep off all curious intruders. 



2 F 



45 o Freemasonry, 

It is so with the Masons, whose brother terrible, or 
the tiler, guards with a drawn sword the portals of 
the lodge. 

^^ Thus everything/' says Barruel, " the very signs, 
the language, the names of grand-master, of knight, 
of temple, even the columns of Jachin and Boaz^ 
which decorated the Temple of Jerusalem, and which 
are supposed to have been consigned to the care 
of the Templars — all, in a word, betray our Free- 
masons as the descendants of those proscribed 
knights. 

"But what a damning proof do we not find in 
those trials,'' continues Barruel, "where the candi- 
date is taught to strike with his poniard the pretended 
assassin of their grand-master ! In common with the 
Templars, it is on Philip le Bel that they wreak their 
vengeance ; and in every other king the sect behold 
this pretended assassin.'' ^ 

Opening at random Carhle's "Manual of Masonry," 
I find the following passage in a charge delivered 
before the brethren of the Royal-Arch Masonry: 
" Companions, it is said the Masonic system exhibits 
a stupendous and beautiful fabric, founded on uni- 
versal wisdom, unfolding its gates to receive, without 
prejudice or discrimination, the worthy professors of 
every description of genuine religion or knowledge; con- 
centrating^ as it werCy into one body, their just tenets^ un- 
encumbered with the disputable peculiarities of any sect 
* Barruel, t. ii., pp. 391-393. Eng. Trans. 



The Rosicrucian Degree. 451 

or persuasion. This system originated in the earhest 
of ages, and among the wisest of men." ^ 

I think it would be difficult to find a more pithy 
expression of utter religious indifferentism. What 
would become of religion when it had passed through 
such a crucible'? On what common ground would 
all the systems meet? And who is to determine 
what diXtjust tenets, and what is genuine religion ? 

In the Rosicrucian degree, which is one of the 
highest grades in Masonry, impiety assumes a bolder 
tone. 

Christ himself, in the eyes of these sophisters, is 
the destroyer of the unity of God. He, according to 
their impious notion, is the great enemy of Jehovah ; 
and to infuse the hatred of the sect into the minds of 
the new adepts, constitutes the grand mystery of the 
degree, which they have called Rosicrucian. 

The ornaments of the Rosicrucian lodge appear 
to be solely intended to recall to the candidate the 
solemn mystery of Mount Calvary. The whole is 
hung in black — an altar is to be seen at the bottom 
of the room, and over the altar is a transparent repre- 
sentation of the three crosses, the middle one bearing 
the usual inscription. The brethren in sacerdotal 
vestments are seated on the ground, in the most pro- 
found silence, sorrowful and afflicted, resting their 
heads on their arms to represent their grief It is 
* Carlile's Manual of Masonry, p. 9. 



452 Freemasonry, 

not the death of the Son of God, who died the victim 
for our sins, that is the cause of their affliction. The 
main object of it is evident by the first answer which 
is made to the question, with which all the lodges are 
generally opened. 

The master asks the senior warden, what o'clock it 
is % The answer varies according to the different de- 
grees. 

In this it is as follows : " It is the first hour of 
the day, the time when the veil of the Temple was 
rent asunder — when darkness and consternation were 
spread over the Earth — when the light was darkened 
— when the implements of Masonry were broken — when 
the flaming star disappeared — when the cubic stone 
was broken — when the word was lostr * 

O Masonry ! thou hast here told thy last secret ! 
Enough! drop the mask — further hypocrisy is use- 
less. If thy implements were broken by the victory 
which Christ, through His death, won over sin and 
Satan, so were those of all superstition, all error, all 
false philosophy. Bury thyself, then, beneath the 
ruins of heathenism, and approach not the precincts 
of Christianity ! The word is not lost, as thou pre- 
tendest, but hath gone forth from Judea, and re- 
sounded to the uttermost parts of the Earth. The 
flaming star hath not disappeared ; but that star, 
descried in the cloudy distance by our first great 
Progenitor and the Fathers of the elder Dispensa- 
* Consult Barruel, t. ii., pp. 310, 311. 



Its Various Degrees. 453 

tion, then beaming more clearly on Israel's prophetic 
eye, and casting at times a broken ray over the 
gloom of Gentility — that star hath now risen in all its 
splendour above the Mount of Calvary, shines for 
more than eighteen hundred years with undiminished 
lustre, and at the last great day of doom, when dark- 
ness shall wrap the universe — when the light of the 
sun itself shall be extinguished, that star will yet 
cheer an agonizing world ! 

" Oh, how profound,^' exclaims the Abbe Barruel, 
" is the combination of these mysteries ! Their pro- 
gress is slow and tortuous ; but how artfully each 
degree tends to the grand object ! 

" In the first two degrees of apprentice and fellow- 
crafty the sect begins by throwing out its principles 
of liberty and equality. After that it occupies the 
attention of its novices with puerile games of frater- 
nity, or with masonic repasts ; but it already trains its 
adepts to the profoundest secrecy by the most fright- 
ful oaths. In the third degree of master it relates 
the allegorical history of Adoniram, who is to be 
avenged, and of the word^ which is to be recovered. 

" In the degree of elect^ it trains the adepts to ven- 
geance, without pointing out the person on whom it 
is to fall. It carries them back to the pretended 
patriarchal religion of nature, and to its universal 
priesthood. In the Scotch degrees^ the brethren are 
declared free. The word so long sought for is Deisin^ 
the pretended worship of Jehovah, known to the 



454 Freemasonry. 

philosophers of nature. In the Rosicrucian degree^ he 
who destroyed the worship of Jehovah is represented 
as Christ himself; and it is on the Gospel, and on 
the Son of Man himself, that the adept is to avenge 
the brethren, the pontiffs of Jehovah. In the last 
degree of Kadosch^ the adept learns that the assassin 
of Adoniram is the king^ who is to be killed, to avenge 
the grand-master Molay, and the order of the Masons, 
successors to the Knights-Templars. The religion, 
which is to be destroyed, is the religion of Christ; and 
the word (that is, liberty and equality) is to be estab- 
lished by the total overthrow of the altar and the 
throne." 

Such is the summary of the religious and the politi- 
cal principles of Masonry, as given by the Abbe 
Barruel. 

Having now dwelt more fully on the religious doc- 
trines of Masonry, let us turn to its political. And 
then let us compare its social tenets and influences 
with those of the Catholic Church. 

"Liberty," "equality," "fraternity" — whence had 
Masonry derived those all-hallowed, all-blessed words % 
Whence but from that Divine religion, which, as the 
Scripture saith, is "the law of perfect liberty?" for it 
emancipated man from the bondage to sin and Satan, 
and so prepared him for the highest social and intel- 
lectual freedom. Equality and fraternity that religion 
proclaimed to a selfish, corrupt, and enslaved world ; 
for it taught that all men were creatures of the same 



The false Freedom preached by Sects. 455 

Creator, the children of the same heavenly Father, 
and the co-heirs of the same Redeemer, admitted 
alike without distinction of rank or fortune to the 
blessings of the Divine economy, and to the rewards 
of a future life. And was not fraternity taught by 
that religion, which shewed us a God who had taken 
upon Himself our nature, and had died for our sins, 
who had thus made Himself our brother, and bidden 
all men look on each other as brethren, and had 
declared that by this, ^'men shall know that ye are 
my disciples, that ye love one another % " 

But, alas ! the very blessings which Christianity had 
brought and announced to mankind were perverted 
by guilty sectaries to their ruin. The very light, 
which warmed and illumined the earth, blinded those 
who looked on it with a rash, irreverent gaze. Al- 
ready the apostles warned us against those who made 
"liberty a cloak for malice j" who, in the words of 
St Jude, "blasphemed majesty;" who would not 
" honour the king, nor those deputed by him to punish 
evil-doers." The Gnostics in the early ages of the 
Church — the Albigenses, the Fratricelli, and the Lol- 
lards of the mediaeval period — the Anabaptists of the 
sixteenth century — the Jacobins and the Socialists of 
modern times, perverting the Christian idea of spi- 
ritual equality, preached up one inconsistent with all 
ecclesiastical and civil order — repugnant to the very 
constitution of human nature — ruinous to all freedom, 
intellectual, political, and domestic. They proclaimed 



4 5 6 Freemasonry. 

a social equality, which has no analogy in the physi- 
cal universe, where we see a graduated scale of being 
— an equality which existed not even in man's Para- 
disaic state, where, though there had not been a harsh 
separation of classes, there would have been still the 
inequality involved in the nuptial and in the parental 
relations — an equahty, in fine, which exists not in 
heaven itself, where, amid all those luminous hier- 
archies, there is ever a wondrous gradation of intelli- 
gence, felicity, and love. 

But if the Cathohc Church did not attempt to re- 
alize the equahty of conditions, which these sects de- 
manded — an equahty which the accidents of fortune, 
the differences in the duration of human life, as well 
as the infinite diversity of moral worth, and of physi- 
cal and intellectual energy among men, rendered 
utterly impracticable — did she therefore fail in her 
endeavours to regenerate mankind % Was she untrue 
to her great mission % Did she belie all those splendid 
promises of "liberty, equality, fraternity,'^ inscribed 
on the charter she had given to the world % Let the 
history of eighteen hundred years reply. 

Christianity, indeed, came not on earth to bestow 
secular greatness, or wealth, or power on its follow- 
ers, but to preach deliverance to the captives — to open 
the eyes of the blind — to bind up the wounds of the 
bruised — to break the yoke of sin — to reveal the glo- 
ries of the world to come. Yet by the very fact that 
it sanctified and renovated all the domestic and the 



Social Blessings of Christianity. 457 

social relations, it sowed the seeds of that civiUzation 
which, acting on the spontaneous energy of nations, 
was to produce all the marvels of modern history. 
And what to all those marvels and those blessings can 
Masonry, and all the brood of anti-Christian sects, 
oppose % Will they dare to set up their fantastic tri- 
angle of equality, a symbol which, wherever erected, 
has led to spoliation, bloodshed, and anarchy *? — will 
they dare to oppose that symbol to the Cross, the 
emblem of man's social, as well as spiritual, redemp- 
tion — the emblem of eternal, self-devoting love — the 
source, in every age, of such lofty inspirations and 
such heroic sacrifices % Will they dare to deny or dis- 
pute those social blessings, which the Christian Church 
hath conferred on mankind? Those blessings, as I 
have said, formed no direct, immediate object of the 
Christian dispensation; yet were they its necessary 
concomitants, in the same way as the angel, "who 
brings us a heavenly message," is recognized by the 
brightness which shines round about him, and by the 
fragrance which he sheds from his wings. In the 
long series of ages which the Christian Church hath 
traversed, diffusing, like her Divine Founder, such 
manifold blessings in her course, she has had every 
species of obstacle to encounter. She had to con- 
tend with the pride, the self-will, the selfishness, and 
all the passions of our fallen nature. She had to 
contend with the ignorance and the weakness of the 
human understanding; she had to contend with the 



4 5 8 Freemasonry. 

craft of the great adversary of God and man, who 
was ever raising up heresies to disfigure her, schisms 
to distract her, and tyrants to oppress her; who was 
ever sowing dissensions between her and the State, 
between nation and nation, between ruler and sub- 
ject, between class and class, between race and race. 
And yet, in despite of these great and various obsta- 
cles, she renovated an effete civilization, enlightened 
barbarism, tamed the savage life. She everywhere 
overthrew the tyranny of the stronger, and flung her 
divine aegis over the weak. She ennobled and con- 
solidated the family, by aboHshing polygamy and 
divorce, and thus exalted woman to a rank she had 
never attained to under any other religion. She took 
from paternity the savage right of life and death over 
the son, and first mitigated, and then abolished, slavery; 
— a social change, the most stupendous in the whole 
history of mankind — so stupendous, that ancient 
philosophy never dreamed of even proposing it. She 
sanctified poverty, the type of Him who had walked 
the earth more homeless and destitute than the birds 
of the air and the foxes of the field; and, in the 
words of a great French Catholic writer of this age, 
" she taught kings themselves to wash the feet of the 
poor, and to bow down and do homage to the sove- 
reignty of indigence. '^ She inspired the peasant with 
a noble sense of independence, taught the burgess to 
unite the spirit of charity with the spirit of thriftiness, 
tempered the pride, and refined the manners of 



Intellectual Blessings of Christianity. 459 

nobility, and by the beautiful institution of chivalry, 
breathed into it a generous self-devotion to all that 
was tender, weak, and helpless. By her prayers and 
unctions she consecrated royalty into a sort of tem- 
poral and secondary priesthood, holding up before it 
its duties as well as its rights. She humanized legis- 
lation, and infused the spirit of mercy into the stern 
dictates of justice. In her own admirable constitu- 
tion she set up the model of the temperate, well- 
balanced mediaeval monarchy — a monarchy which 
grew up under the shadow of her altar, and which 
declined only in those times, and in those countries, 
where her political influence had declined. She cre- 
ated, as Montesquieu himself confesses, a new law of 
nations, and a new right of warfare, adapted to her 
own enlarged spirit of benevolence, as well as to that 
brotherhood of nations she had founded in Europe. 
And the interpretation and the enforcement of this 
international law were consigned, by general consent 
and usage, to the Sovereign Pontiff, the common 
Father of Christendom. Her missions promoted 
geographical discovery ; and the very propagation of 
the Gospel opened a boundless field to commercial 
enterprise. Then, in regard to the intellectual 
advancement of mankind, it were too long to com- 
memorate the services of the Church. With the 
Bible in one hand, and her glorious history in the 
other, she opened out to poetry and to art new 
luminous spheres, impervious to classical and Oriental 



460 Freemasonry. 

antiquity. She has almost created the physical 
sciences; for between nature and nature's God she 
traced out a clear line of demarcation, unknown to 
paganism ; while in her profound, well-connected 
dogmas, speculative philosophy found an inexhaust- 
ible mine. 

Such were the blessings, intellectual and social, 
the Catholic Church bestowed on a world too dull 
to appreciate, too ungrateful to acknowledge them. 
And many other benefits would she have conferred 
on mankind, had not her divine work of regeneration 
been partially interrupted by the religious schism of 
the sixteenth century. 

To sum up, in conclusion, the religious and politi- 
cal doctrines of Freemasonry, the following observa- 
tions may suffice : In its higher grades we have seen 
that it professes deism, and yet pretends to revive the 
patriarchal religion. How empty, how absurd is this 
pretension, I have, I trust, sufficiently shewn. 

In keeping with the hollowness of its doctrine, is 
the sham of its ceremonial. It surrounds itself with 
mock symbols taken from Judaism and from Chris- 
tianity ; and while it appeals to the wiser heathens, 
who presided over the mysteries of Isis and Eleusis, 
it apes some of their forms and ceremonies. Yet I 
venture to assert that a Pythagoras and a Plato would 
have evinced for this deistical system nearly as much 
contempt, as did the great Bossuet under the light of 
Christianity. Plato, indeed, might at times be guilty 



Its Religious and Political Views. 46 1 

of culpable compliances with the practices of Poly- 
theism, and might sanction in public what he con- 
demned in private. But never would he have affirmed, 
that a religious system without public sacrifice, public 
worship, and a priesthood of any sort, could obtain a 
hold over the human mind. 

Corresponding with the deistical principles of Free- 
masonry, was its shallow republicanism in politics. 

The republic, though the experience of all ages 
has shewn that it is not adapted for extensive em- 
pires, yet when based on historical traditions and 
national habits, allied with the Church, recognizing 
the due subordination of ranks, and supported by 
those two pillars, aristocracy on the one hand, and 
municipal corporations on the other, the republic, I 
say, differs not so essentially and radically from the 
genuine monarchy, founded on the three estates.* 

The masonic \ republic aimed at the overthrow of 
monarchical, clerical, aristocratic, and popular rights, 
and sought the establishment of a sort of bureau- 
cratic government, whereby the fraternity might safely 
propagate its religious and political principles, and 
monopoHze all place and power. And in some 
countries the attempt had a partial and temporary 
success. 

On the other hand, the political tenets of the lUu- 
minati and the Jacobins were in close keeping with 

* Yet even the best organized republic wants the element of 
cohesion, which royalty alone gives. 



462 Freemasonry. . 

their monstrous doctrines in religion. As they im- 
pHcitly rejected all truths by the denial of that great 
cardinal truth — the being of a God — on which all in- 
tellectual, moral, political, and physical life depends, 
their politics were a mere negation of social and 
domestic order, and substituted for settled rule the 
confusion of anarchy. In their bloody orgies of 1793, 
they seemed to celebrate the festival of annihilation 
herself; and the benign Providence who rules the 
world, appeared by an awful judgment to have for a 
moment suspended His course, and abandoned that 
world once more to chaos and old night. 

These atheistic clubs have given place in our own 
age to Pantheistic sects, like the Saint Simonians, 
the Socialists, the Communists, and the Mazzinian 
portion of the Carbonari, who, amid the most fearful 
aberrations, have followed a sort of method, and in 
the very process of destruction have attempted to 
build up. 

Pantheism has been justly called the heresy of the 
nineteenth century. The sectaries I have named aim 
at establishing Pantheism in the Church, in the state, 
and in the family. In the Church, by denying the 
personality of God, by confounding Him with His 
creatures — by thus implicitly effacing the distinctions 
between right and wrong — by denying man^s free will, 
and by asserting the law of fatalism in the universe. 
Into the state they introduce the Pantheistic system 
of emanations, by destroying all individual liberty, by 



The Pantheistic Sects, 463 

making the citizen a passive instrument of the state, 
by repressing all personal spontaneity, by cramping 
all individual interests and individual affections, and 
consequently proscribing all hereditary rank, heredi- 
tary rights, hereditary property, and by contriving a 
constant flux and reflux of powers from the govern- 
ment to the people, and from the people to the 
government. They introduce Pantheism into the 
constitution of the family, by destroying personal 
freedom, and with it the very principle of property, 
and then by an execrable logic, by denying the unity, 
the sanctity, the inviolability of the nuptial tie ; by 
rejecting here all settled alliances, all stability of 
affections and interests, all recognized connubial and 
parental claims : making by this horrid medley of 
folly and libertinism, the Pantheistic family a fit 
counterpart to the Pantheistic church and the Pan- 
theistic state. 

Such is the truly devilish skill with which these 
sects have interwoven their doctrines on religious, 
political, and domestic society. 

How they and their predecessors, the Illuminati 
and the Jacobins, grew out of Masonry, what has 
been their history and their moral and political in- 
fluence, will be shewn in the next lecture which I 
shall have the honour of delivering before you. 



LECTURE 11. 

THE ILLUMINATI — THE JACOBINS — THE CARBONARI — 
AND THE SOCIALISTS. 

My Lord Mayor, Ladies, and Gentlemen, 
IN concluding the lecture on Freemasonry, which 
some time ago I had the honour of delivering 
before you, I promised, on a future occasion, to shew 
how the lUuminati and the Jacobins, the Carbonari 
and the Socialists, grew out of that Order. This is 
the task I propose to perform to-night. 

Men friendly, as well as unfriendly, to that Order, 
have admitted to me, that I treated the subject with 
moderation and charity ; and I trust that on the pre- 
sent occasion I shall not be found to deviate from the 
same course. 

It is unnecessary to repeat what I said on the for- 
mer occasion, that to the lower grades of this Order 
very many estimable persons have at different periods 
belonged ; and that, unlike Catholics, Protestants are 
not prohibited by their religious authorities from join- 
ing this society. 

I may add, that men may in ignorance, and there- 



Tendencies of Secret Societies. 465 

fore perfect innocence, profess doctrines, whose logi- 
cal consequences are very dangerous, and which, if 
brought home to their minds, they would reject with 
horror. And the same may hold good with regard to 
institutions of whose import and character they are 
not cognizant. Thus, in shewing the dreadful pur- 
poses to which Masonry may be, and has been, per- 
verted, I prove the dangers incident to that as well as 
other secret societies ; but I do not inculpate its inno- 
cent members. And though CathoHcs, by joining the 
Masonic and some other secret associations, incur 
excommunication, and therefore expose themselves 
to the gravest spiritual perils \ yet would many even of 
those shrink with horror from countenancing vice, irre- 
ligion, or social disorder. 

I shall now proceed to give a short account of the 
rise, 'the proceedings, and the principles of the lUu- 
minati. 

THE ILLUMINATI. 

The founder of Illuminism, Dr Adam Weishaupt, 

was born at Ingolstadt, in Bavaria, in the year 1748. 

Though he was of humble birth, his talents raised 

him to a high position. He had been a pupil of the 

Jesuits j but abandoning the faith in which he had 

been brought up, he studied the organization of their 

society with the view to frame an Order, destined to 

be a medium and an organ for propagating his own 

detestable principles, religious and social. Thus the old 

2 G 



466 The Illuminati. 

saying was realized, ^^ Where God builds a church, there 
the devil will raise a chapel." At the age of twenty- 
eight, Weishaupt was appointed to the chair of canon 
law at the University of Ingolstadt. By his talents 
and plausible manners, he exercised considerable in- 
fluence over the students who followed his lectures. 

A letter of his, which it would be indecorous to 
cite, written about 1775, testifies to the profound de- 
pravity of his character. In 1776 he devised his 
great scheme for the moral and social regeneration of 
mankind, and to which he devoted all the energies of 
his life. This plan he communicates to several ex- 
Jesuits, whom he at first gains over to his views, but 
who, on becoming acquainted with the true nature of 
his plan, renounce, with two exceptions, all fellow- 
ship with him. 

Nothing, indeed, could be more specious and 
plausible than his professions. He came, he said, to 
form a society for practising brotherly love, for diffus- 
ing the blessings of knowledge, for dispelHng igno- 
rance and superstition. What objects, considered in 
themselves, could be more laudable % Should not all 
men be prepared to support an undertaking so just 
and salutary % But what was the real purport and ob- 
ject of this undertaking we shall soon have ample 
opportunity of knowing. 

"In 1778," says Professor Robison, "the number 
of the members was considerably increased, and the 
Order was fully established. The members took 



Members of the Order. 467 

ancient names. Thus Weishaupt adopted the name 
of Spartacus, the man who headed the insurrection of 
slaves, which in Pompey^s time kept Rome in terror 
for three years. The Councillor Zwack, a zealous 
ally of Weishaupt, was called Cato ; Baron Knigge, 
an ardent adept of the Order, termed himself Philo ; 
Batz was Hannibal; Hertel, an apostate priest, 
Marius ; the Marquis Constanza, an Italian, was Dio- 
medes; Nicolai, an eminent and learned bookseller 
of Berlin, and author of several works of reputation, 
took the name of Lucian, the great scoffer of religion ; 
another was styled Mahomet 

" It is remarkable," continues Mr Robison, " that, 
except Cato and Socrates, we have not a name of any 
ancient who was eminent as a teacher and practiser 
of virtue. On the contrary, they seem to have affected 
the characters of the freethinkers and turbulent 
spirits of antiquity. In the same manner they gave 
ancient names to the cities and countries of Europe. 
Munich was called Athens ; Vienna, Rome, and so 
forth." * So far Professor Robison. 

Before I describe the character of these several 
members of the Order of the Illuminati, it will be well 
to state shortly the organization of the Order. 

The following were the several degrees : — 

I. The Novice or Minerval, who must belong to the Order of 
Freemasons. 2. The Illuminatus minor. 

^ Proofs of a Conspiracy, pp. 133, 134. 



468 The Illuminati. 

r Apprentice. 
Symbolic, ] Fellow-Craft. 
Masonry, \ ( Master. 

q . , K Illuminatus major, Scotch Novice. 

( Illuminatus dirigens, Scotch Knight. 

( Presbyter, Priest. 
Lesser, | Regens, Prince. 



Mysteries, 



P , ( Magus, or Philosophus. 

' ( Rex. 



In the first degree of Magus, belonging to the 
higher mysteries, the doctrines of Spinoza are incul- 
cated, and all religion is repudiated. In the second 
degree, or that of Rex, it is taught that all subor- 
dination of ranks must disappear from the face 
of the earth, and that, if possible, by peaceable 
means, but if not, by violence, the Patriarchal state 
must be restored, and every householder made a 
sovereign. 

In the first volume of the " Original Writings," con- 
taining the secrets of the Order, and which at the 
period of its suppression were discovered by the 
Bavarian Government, there are certain documents 
called Tablets, which give curious revelations respect- 
ing the leading adepts of lUuminism. They were 
drawn up by a member of the Order, bearing the 
assumed name of Ajax. 

My limits will not allow me to enter into any par- 
ticulars respecting the character of these members 
called Areopagites. The principal were the Coun- 
cillor Zwack, known in the Order by the name of 
Catoj the apostate priest Hertel; Berger, called 



Plan and Objects of the Order. 469 

Scipio in the Order, and who had been a Freemason ; 
the physician, Baader, called in the Order Celsus, a 
very bad character; the Baron Batz, known by the 
name of Hannibal; and an Italian nobleman, the 
Marquis Constanza, an enthusiastic admirer of Weis- 
haupt, and who bore among the adepts the name of 
Diomedes. 

Having thus named the chief members of this 
detestable association, I shall cite some extracts from 
their correspondence, that will best illustrate the plan 
and objects of the Order. 

In a letter from Spartacus (Weishaupt) to Cato, 
(Zwack,) and dated February 1778, the former insists 
on the great importance of the cultivation of science 
in order to serve as a point of attraction to their 
society. '^ Proper subjects only,^' he proceeds to say, 
^^ shall be picked out from among the inferior classes 
for the higher mysteries^ which contain the first prin- 
ciples and means of promoting a happy life. No re- 
ligionist must on any account he admitted into these ; for 
here we work at the discovery and extirpation of super- 
stition and prejudices r 

He then proceeds to lay down the method of 
espionage by which the members of the Order shall 
be brought under the control of its heads. It is only 
after a long trial, and a patient, searching inquiry, the 
members shall be admitted to a full knowledge of 
the mysteries of the craft. " In a council," he says, 
*• composed of such members we shall labour at the 



470 The Illuminati. 

contrivance of means to drive by degrees the enemies 
of reason and of humanity out of the world, and to 
establish a peculiar morality and religion, fitted for 
the great society of mankind." Then he goes on to 
say with what circumspection books against religion 
are to be placed in the hands of the probationary 
members. First, the historians and moralists of im- 
piety must be dispensed to the aspirants, and then, 
when their digestive powers have become stronger, 
the poison of such infamous productions as the 
" Systeme de la Nature " of Helvetius must be ad- 
ministered to them. 

The allegory under which SpartacuiS veils his hid- 
eous mysteries is the fire-worship of the Magi. " Let 
there be light," he blasphemously says, "and there 
shall be light." 

In the following letter of Spartacus the depraved 
doctrine that the end will justify the means, however 
atrocious, is specially taught. "To collect unpub- 
lished works," says he, "and information from the 
Archives of the States will be a most useful servdce : 
we shall be able to shew in a very ridiculous light the 
claims of our despots. Marius (keeper of the Archives 
of the Electorate) has ferreted out a noble document, 
which we have got. He makes it, forsooth, a case of 
conscience — how silly that, since only that is sin 
which is ultimately productive of mischief In this 
case, when the advantage far exceeds the hurt, it is 
meritorious virtue. It will do more good in our hands 



Their Proceedings. 4 7 1 

than by remaining for a thousand years on the dusty 
shelf/' 

Thus Weishaupt commends a breach of trust, and 
a gross violation of official secrecy, because it pro- 
motes the ends of his nefarious society; nay, he 
laughs at the scruples of those whose conscience had 
not become absolutely dead. 

Zwack formed a project (and the scheme has been 
found in his handwriting) for establishing a sister- 
hood in subserviency to the Order of which he was a 
member. The desire to obtain money as well as in- 
fluence suggested the scheme ; and the means he 
recommended for accomplishing the design were well 
suited to his detestable institute. Here the character 
and dispositions of the fair aspirants to initiation were 
also to be severely probed ; they were, without their 
knowledge, to be under the guidance of men, and 
books calculated to corrupt their minds secretly placed 
in their hands. They were to be called the Sisters 
IlluminatcB. 

In the handwriting of this councillor was also found 
a work called " Horus," which was a bitter satire on 
all reUgion, and which was printed and distributed at 
the Leipzick fair. In the same handwriting were 
found a method for taking off the impressions of seals, 
and one for filling a chamber with pestilential vapour, 
together with other projects too detestable and im- 
moral to be described. 

Philo, (the Baron Knigge,) in a letter to his head. 



472 The Illuminati. 

Spartacus, (Professor Weishaupt,) thus succinctly states 
the principles and the plan of the Order : — "We must 
consider the ruling propensities of every age of the 
world. At present the cheats and tricks of the priests 
have roused all meii against them, and against Chris- 
tianity. But at the same time superstition and fana- 
ticism rule with unlimited dominion, and the under- 
standing of men really seems to be going backwards. 
Our task, therefore, is doubled. We must give such 
an account of things that fanatics shall not be alarmed, 
and that shall, notwithstanding, excite a spirit of free 
inquiry. 

" We must not throw away the good with the bad, 
the child with the dirty water, but we must make the 
secret doctrines of Christianity be received as the 
secrets of genuine Freemasonry. 

" But further, we have to deal with the despotism 
of princes. This increases every day. But, then, the 
spirit of freedom breathes and sighs in every corner, 
and by the assistance of hidden schools of wisdom, 
liberty and equality, the natural and imprescriptible 
rights of man, glow in every breast. We must there- 
fore unite these extremes.'' — P. 152. 

The writer then describes his plan for accompHsh- 
ing this object. The twofold design of the Illuminati 
to undermine religion and society, as well as a general 
outline of the means to be employed for that purpose, 
we find stated in this letter. 

The writer then proceeds to explain away the 



Their Principles. 473 

essence and the object of Christianity. The object of 
that Divine religion, we are told, is nothing more than 
to diffuse sound morality, and to enlighten the mind, 
and enable it to shake off prejudices. So its dogmas 
are thus set aside. Then as to its relations to civil 
society, we are further informed that Christianity, 
teaching men to govern themselves, renders rulers 
unnecessary, and so without any resolution, and by 
the natural course of things, establishes the reign of 
" liberty and equality." These were the hidden doc- 
trines of Christianity, we are told, that were committed 
to the keeping of secret societies, and which '^are 
now possessed by the genuine Freemasons.'^ Here 
the Illuming is right j for the Christianity he exhibits 
in this travestied form is, unquestionably, the posses- 
sion of the genuine Freemason. But that Philo was 
conscious of the utter futility of his assertions, and 
that he was playing a game of deep hypocrisy, is clear 
from his own words ; for in many places he says, 
" All this is only a cloak to prevent squeamish people 
from starting back.'' The same hypocritical game 
was played in the French Masonry. " In one of its 
rituals,'' says Professor Robison, " the master's de- 
gree is made typical of the death of Jesus Christ, the 
preacher of brotherly love. But in the next grade, 
the ^ ChevaHer du Soleil,' it is reason that has been 
destroyed and entombed, and the master in this 
degree, the sublime philosopher, occasions the dis- 
covery of the place where the body is hid : reason 



474 ^^^ Illuminati, 

rises again, and superstition and tyranny disappear, 
and all becomes clear. Man becomes free and 
happy.''— Pp. 155. 156. 

Such were the detestable doctrines and proceedings 
of this sect. 

In 1782 the Bavarian Government was alarmed by 
rumours as to the principles and proceedings of cer- 
tain Masonic lodges, and especially of one known 
by the name of the Lodge Theodore. These rumours 
gaining strength, the elector instituted a judicial in- 
quiry into the rules and proceedings of this lodge. 
The inquiry served to confirm the suspicions of the 
Government and of the public ; and accordingly, as a 
sort of trial, all secret assemblies were interdicted, and 
the Masonic lodges were closed. In defiance of the 
royal edict, the Lodge Theodore continued its meet- 
ings. In 1783 four professors, — Utschneider, Cos- 
sandey, Renner, and Grunberger,— -with two others, 
were summoned before the Court of Inquiry, and 
questioned on oath respecting the rules and principles 
of the Order of the Illuminati. Their declarations 
were most damning to the Order. They affirmed 
that in the higher grades Christianity was abjured — 
sensual pleasures declared lawful — materialism incul- 
cated — loyalty and patriotism proscribed — and the 
subordination of ranks and the accumulation of pro- 
perty pronounced to be baneful. 

It was pretended that, as these professors acknow- 
ledged their ignorance on some points, their evidence 



Suppression of the Order, 475 

on others was not trustworthy. But facts soon cor- 
roborated their testimony. The Order was suppressed. 
Weishaupt, discovered to be its founder, was deprived 
of his professorial chair, and banished from the Ba- 
varian States. A pension of 800 florins was generously 
offered him by the Bavarian Government ; but this he 
declined, and he was rewarded with the office of privy 
councillor by the infatuated Prince of Saxe-Gotha. 
The leading adepts of the sect, like Councillor Zwack, 
and the two Italians, the Marquis Constanza and Mar- 
quis Savioli, were also banished. In the year 1786 the 
Bavarian Government ordered a domiciliary visit to 
the house of the Councillor Zwack, and in the cellar 
a casket was discovered, containing a portion of the 
archives of the Order. Shortly afterwards a still 
larger collection of important documents was found 
at the house of the Baron Bassus, another leading 
member of the society. These various documents, 
published by the Bavarian Government under the 
title of " Original Schriften," (^' Original Writings,") 
amply confirm the evidence of the four professors as 
to the abominable principles and crafty proceedings 
of this association. 

Shortly after its suppression, Illuminism in a modi- 
fied form was revived in the north of Germany. The 
association was called the " German Union," and had 
twenty-two directors, of whom Dr Bahrdt was the 
most conspicuous member. " There is no denying," 
g^ys Professor Robison, "that the principles, and 



476 The Jacobins, 

even the manner of proceeding, are the same with 
the Illuminati in every essential circumstance. Many 
paragraphs of the declamations circulated through 
Germany, with the plans, are transcribed verbatim 
from Weishaupf s corrected system of Illuminism.""^ 

The too famous Mirabeau was at this time at Ber- 
lin, and through him and another Frenchman, called 
Mauvillon, the principles of the German lUuminism 
were communicated to the Masonic lodges of France. 
And this leads me to speak of the rise of the Jacobins. 

THE JACOBINS. 

In the years immediately preceding the great Revo- 
lution of 1789, French Masonry was in a state of the 
greatest disorder. There were many schisms and dis- 
sensions in the body; and various divisions, under 
the name of Chevaliers bienfaisans^ Marlinistes, Phila- 
letes, and Amis reunis^ all more or less impious and 
anarchical, were bringing to maturity the seeds scat- 
tered by the infidel literati of the preceding eighty 
years. 

It was in this state of things, and during the meet- 
ing of the Notables, the German Privy-Councillor 
Bode, an ardent apostle of Illuminism, and who in 
the Order had taken the name of Aurelius, accom- 
panied by another Illumine Busche, (called Bayard,) 
aiTived in Paris. They were well received by the 
French Masons, the Philaletes and the Amis reunis 
especially ; and these the German deputies found ripe 
* Proofs of a Conspiracyj p. 321. 



Their Relations with the Illumines. 477 

for the mysteries of Illuminism. Mirabeau, who at 
BerHn had been initiated in those mysteries, had pre- 
pared the way for these German envoys. Some of 
the most dangerous anarchists, who a short time after- 
wards played so terrible a part in the Revolution, 
were members, and sometimes office-bearers of these 
occult societies. The first proceeding which the foreign 
deputies advised was the formation of a political 
committee in each lodge; and in time, as Robison 
remarks, these committees led to the formation of the 
Jacobin Club. 

" Thus were the lodges of France,'^ says this writer, 
^^ converted in a very short time into a set of secret 
affiliated societies, corresponding with the mother 
lodges of Paris, receiving from thence their principles 
and instructions, and ready to rise up at once when 
called upon to carry on the great work of overturn- 
ing the State. 

" Hence it has arisen that the French aimed in the 
very beginning at subverting the whole world. Hence, 
too, may be explained how the Revolution took place 
almost in a moment in every part of France. The 
revolutionary societies were early formed, and were 
working in secret before the opening of the National 
Assembly, and the whole nation changed, and changed 
again and again, as if by beat of drum. Those duly 
initiated in this mystery of iniquity were ready every- 
where at a call. And we see Weishaupt's wish accom- 
plished in an unexpected degree, and the debates in 
a club giving laws to solemn assemblies of the nation, 



478 The Jacobins. 

and all France bending the neck to the city of Paris. 
The members of the club were lUuminati, and so were 
a great part of their correspondents/' * 

Hence Frederick Schlegel has justly observed, 
" There are in the history of the eighteenth century 
many phenomena which occurred so sudderily^ so 
instantaneously^ so contrary to all expectation^ that 
although, on deeper reflection, we may discover their 
efficient causes in the past, in the natural state of 
things, and in the general situation of the world ; yet 
are there many circumstances which prove that there 
was a deliberate y though secret^ prep artion of events ^ as, 
indeed,, in many instances has been actually demon- 
strated/' t So far Schlegel. 

To produce so momentous an event as the French 
Revolution, the concurrence of many and various 
causes was necessary. The lUuminized Masons were, 
doubtless, very important and active agents in this 
work of destruction ; but they were not the sole nor 
the chief causes of that catastrophe. The irreligion 
of eighty years — the Jansenism of a century and a 
half — the oppression of the Church by the ParUaments, 
and especially by that of Paris — the suppression of 
the Society of Jesus — the moral laxity of a portion 
of the clergy, secular and regular — the corruption 
of the Court during the Regency and the reign of 
Louis XV. — the libertinism and impiety of many 

* Proofs of a Conspiracy, pp. 405, 406. 
+ Philosophy of History, p. 455. 



Causes of the French Revolution. 479 

among the high nobility; — and then, among the 
poHtical causes, the suspension of the States-General, 
that, by moderating the exercise of royal power, would 
have rendered it more firm and more stable, and at the 
same time have called forth the public spirit, and 
the intellectual energies of the noblesse and the tiers 
etat — the growth of bureaucratic centralization — 
the neglect of the peasantry, too often produced by 
the absenteeism of the great proprietors — the reten- 
tion of certain privileges which, having lost their 
significance, tended only to excite jealousy — ^ and, 
lastly, the democratic principles imbibed by the army 
during the War of American Independence, — such 
were the chief causes of the great social convulsion 
adverted to. 

Now, the Illumines and the Illuminized Masons of 
France combined, concentrated, and intensified all 
the bad elements pre-existing in French society. But 
they did not create those elements ; for they existed 
long before them, and had their rise in things, as well 
as in persons, over which secret societies did not, and 
could not, exert any influence. The seed of evil, 
indeed, thrives better in one soil than in another; and 
the success or failure of occult associations depends 
on the religious principles, habits, and temper of a 
people, and on the nature of its poHtical institutions, 
and the spirit of its government. The Illuminati 
confessed that they succeeded far better in Protestant, 
than in Catholic Germany; and how immeasurably 



480 The yacobins, 

greater mischief did not secret societies work in 
infidel France, than in CathoHc Spain ! 

Speaking of the workings of those societies on the 
French Revolution, Barruel pithily observes, " that in 
darkness they were conceived, but in broad daylight 
were they executed." This is true. In the years pre- 
ceding that great convulsion, impiety, like a serpent, 
sometimes lay coiled up in deadly folds, sometimes stole 
stealthily along, nursing its sweltering venom, till at 
the fatal moment it reared its horrid crest, put out its 
forky tongue, vibrated its dreadful rattles, bounded, 
and enfolded its victims in its crushing grasp. Jacob- 
inism tore off the veil which had concealed Illumin- 
ism, and revealed and realized its fearful designs. 
All the formidable engines fabricated in the Illu- 
mine lodges were now brought forth, and applied to 
the battering and the demolition of the religious and 
the social edifice. First, the authority of the Holy See 
— next the other doctrines of the Church — then the 
existence of a Divine revelation — lastly, the very being 
of a God, were successively rejected and proscribed. 
The property of the Church was confiscated; — her 
temples profaned; — her ministers outraged, imprisoned, 
driven into exile, or massacred. The social hierarchy, 
in all its grades, was attacked. Royalty — nobility, 
in its different degrees — the ancient legislatures, 
whether general or provincial — the magistracy, and 
the whole code of jurisprudence it represented and 
administered — the municipal corporations — all were 



The Scheme of Babeuf, 481 

assail(*9 in their several prerogatives, rights, functions, 
and property, and mowed down by the scythe of a 
relentless equality. The middle and humbler classes 
of citizens were now reserved for destruction; the 
very principle of property, as proposed by Babeuf, 
was about to be proscribed; and the family itself, 
already disorganized by divorce, and by the official 
encouragement given to vice, was doomed to annihi- 
lation; when the mass of social ruin and the torrents 
of blood made the Revolution herself recoil from her 
work of destruction. The scheme of a universal par- 
tition of goods was suspended ; and Babeuf fell the 
victim of his wild dream of equality/^ Atheism gave 
way to a sort of fantastic, theatric deism, called 
'^ Theophilanthropy;" anarchy was repressed by some- 
thing in the shape of a government ; and the tide of 
revolution began slowly to ebb. 

* Babeuf, for heading a conspiracy against the Directory, was 
executed on the 24th May .t797» Among his papers, found after 
his execution, was a declaration, in which we read the following 
passage: — **We aim at something far more equitable, more 
sublime : goods in common, or the community of estates ! No 
more individual proprietors in land ; for the earth belongs to 
nobody. We demand, and will enjoy, the goods of the earth in 
common. The fruits belong to all." 

** Disappear now, ye disgusting distinctions of rich and poor, 
of high and of low, of master and servant, of governors and 
governed ! For no other distinctions shall exist among man- 
kind, than those of age and sex." — Vide Barruel's Memoirs, 
Eng. trans., t. iv. p. 452. 

Babeuf is well worthy of notice, as he is the link between the 
anarchists of 1793, and the communists of our own times. 

2 H 



482 The Jacobins. 

Having now traced the history, and analyzed the 
doctrines of Illuminism, and of its daughter Jacob- 
inism, I think this is the fitting place to inquire, 
whether one or the other had any connexion with 
Freemasonry, and whether that connexion were any 
thing more than outward or accidental. 

First, the French Theosophists, a sect of masons, 
held, as Barruel shews, with some ceremonial differ- 
ences, the same doctrines with the Bavarian Illu- 
mines. " There the candidate was led through dark 
windings to the den of trials. Then every image that 
could strike the senses, and appal the imagination, 
was brought before him. Sepulchral lamps, potions 
of blood, representations of spectres, subterranean 
voices ; such were the contrivances adopted to make 
the candidate for initiation the dupe alternately of 
fear and of fanaticism. ^^ * Then was exacted of him a 
fearful, execrable oath, whereby all moral, social, and 
domestic obligations were superseded, and the in- 
fraction whereof, he was told, would be visited with 
chastisement swift and destructive as the lightning- 
stroke. 

This club, as early as the year 1781, held its sittings 
in the Rue la Sordiere at Paris, and even then num- 
bered 125 or 130 members. The famous Count St 
Germain often attended its meetings; and the notorious 
impostor Cagliostro was, by a formal deputation, 
specially invited to attend them. The famous Re- 
* Barruel, vol. iv. p. 357, Eng. trans. 



Masonic Congress of Wilhelmsbad. 483 

volutionist, Condorcet, was another member of this 
dub. It possessed traveUing members, and compilers, 
and printers for the circulation of its works.* Again, 
we have the positive testimony of the Baron Knigge 
that, on the breaking up of the Masonic assembly of 
Wilhelmsbaden, deputies flocked to him to crave ad- 
mission to the higher mysteries. They needed, he 
tells us, no long noviciate, nor tedious trials, but were 
at once admitted to the degrees of Epopt and of 
Regens, which, he adds, they all received with enthusi- 
asm^ and termed master-pieces. 

What sort of men must have been those Masonic 
deputies — (and let us remember that at the Congress 
of Wilhelmsbad we had the choice specimens of the 
Order;) — what sort of men must have been those whom 
the hideous mysteries of Illuminism could thus en- 
chant? Could more striking evidence be adduced 
of the frightful condition of Masonry in 1782'? 

Next, we have the testimony of Count Virieux, 
who, on his return to Paris from the Masonic Con- 
gress of Wilhelmsbad, when twitted by a friend on the 
wonderful secrets he had there learned, replied to the 
following effect : — " I will not tell you the secrets I 
bring; but what I think I may tell you is, that it is 
all far more serious than you imagine. The fact is, 
that a conspiracy is now being contrived, and that 
with so much art, and of so profound a nature, that 
it will be very difficult for religion and for nations not 
* See Barruel, t. iv. p. 358. 



484 Masonic Lodges, 

to sink under it/' The insight he had obtained into 
the higher mysteries so shocked and disgusted him, 
that he renounced all connexion with Masonry and 
its affihations, and henceforth became a very religious 
man.* 

Further, "as early as the year 1776," says the 
Abbe Barruel, "the Central Committee of the ' Grand 
Orient' instructed the directing adepts to prepare the 
brethren for insurrection, and to visit the lodges 
throughout France, to conjure them by the Masonic 
oath, and to announce that the time was at length 
come to fulfil it in the death of tyrants." t 

Lastly, in the year 1762 a deputy from the "Grand 
Orient," called Sinetty, an artillery officer, made, in a 
Masonic Lodge at Lille, the following declaration in 
the presence of his brother officers, one of whom 
afterwards attested the fact : — " In the most emphatic, 
enthusiastic tone, Sinetty declared, that at length the 
time was come that the plans so ably conceived, and 
so long meditated by the true Masons, were on the 
eve of being accomplished ; that the universe would 
be freed from its fetters ; tyrants, called kings, would 
be vanquished ; religious superstitions would give 
way to light ; liberty and equality would succeed to 
the slavery under which the world was oppressed ; and 
that man would at length be reinstated in his rights." J 

This is the very language uttered in the Conven- 

* See Barruel, vol. iv. p, 160. f Barruel, t. 1 1, p. 438. 

X Barruel, t ii, pp. 439-440. 



Manifesto of the Grand-Master. 485 

tion. Surely the speech of one of its orators has here 
been antedated by thirty years ! No, for we have the 
positive testimony of a witness, who heard it at the 
very time stated. 

From the period when the Masonic deputies at the 
Congress of Wilhelmsbad were initiated in the mys- 
teries of Illuminism, the Bavarian sect spread with 
fearful rapidity, and assumed a menacing attitude. 
Its head-quarters were at this time in the city of 
Frankfort, and the Baron Knigge declares, that the 
number of persons whom he himself had illuminized, 
amounted to five hundred, and of these, he adds, 
nearly all were Masons, * 

The principles of Illuminism imparted a fearful 
energy and a strange expansive force to the whole 
Masonic Order. Long regarded as associations char- 
acterized by nothing but a love for fantastic cere- 
monial and frivolous amusements, its lodges were 
now looked upon as full of significance, and possessed 
of great power. 

So widely infected was this Order in Germany 
with the principles of Illuminism, that in the year 
1794 its Grand-Master, the Duke of Brunswick, is- 
sued a manifesto, dissolving the association till better 
times should arise, when it could be restored to what 
he conceived to be its state of pristine purity. I shall 
give a few extracts from this very important docu- 
ment 

"All the world,'' he says, "knows this sect (the 



486 Masonic Lodges, 

Illumines ;) its brethren are not less known than its 
name. It is this sect which has sapped the founda- 
tions of the Order^ till it was completely overturned; it 
is by this sect all mankind have been vitiated, and 
led astray for many generations. The ferment which 

reigns among nations is its work Raillery 

and disdain ; such were the weapons of that sect, first 
against Religion herself, then against her ministers. 
. . , . . From the house-tops the maxims of the 
most unbridled licentiousness were preached; and 
that licentiousness was called liberty. The Rights of 
Man were invented, which it is impossible to dis- 
cover in the book of Nature ; and nations were en- 
couraged to extort from their sovereigns the recog- 
nition of those supposed rights. The plan which had 
been formed to dissever all social ties, and to subvert 
all political order, was manifested in discourses and 
in acts. 

This was what was done, and is still doing. But I 
may observe, that princes and nations are ignorant 
how and by what means all this has been accom- 
plished. Wherefore, we tell them freely and boldly: 
^ the abuse of our Order — (the Masonic) — the mistake 
as to our secret^ has produced all the troubles, political 
ana moral, wherewith the earth is now filled, ' 

We ought to assure princes and nations, on our 
honour and our allegiance, that our association is by 



Prohibitions of all Secret Societies. 487 

no means guilty of these evils. But in order that our 
association may have force, and may merit credence, 
we must, in behalf of princes and of nations, make a 
complete sacrifice. To cut off the abuse and the mis- 
conception by the roots, we ought from this moment 
to put down the order. Hence we wholly suppress and 
dissolve it for the present time : the foundations we 
reserve for posterity, which in better times, when 
humanity shall be able to derive some profit from our 
holy alliance, may be enabled to excavate those foun- 
dations.^' 

Such are a few passages from this very remarkable 
document. " It was not," says M. Eckert, " a spe- 
cious declaration with the view of appeasing the King 
of Prussia; but its real object was to remove the 
cause of the revolution by the spontaneous dissolution 
of the order. Be this as it may, it is plain that this 
declaration was of great assistance to the Sovereigns, 
not only during the conflict they carried on with the 
Revolution from 1789 to 1793, but even after the de- 
cisive victory gained over the spirit of rebellion."* 

On the 20th October 1798, the King of Prussia 
published an edict interdicting anew secret societies. 
Under certain conditions, the Order of Freemasons 
was tolerated. By this edict all Prussian Masonry 
was subjected to the great lodges of Berhn. 

In Bavaria an absolute prohibition of this order 
took place in 1799. In Austria, after the Emperor 
* La Franc— Ma9onnerie, Trad. Franc, t. 11. p. 136. 



488 The Masonic Lodges. 

Francis II. had mounted the throne, Freemasonry 
was again suppressed in 1794. 

Can any more powerful defence of the discipline of 
the Catholic Church in regard to secret societies be 
adduced, than the declaration put forth by the Grand- 
Master of the Masonic Order, the Duke of Bruns- 
wick, and which I have just cited % If a society like 
the Masonic — destined, as is alleged, to promote 
purely benevolent objects — could be so far diverted 
from its original purpose; if it could be made to a 
large extent instrumental in the accomplishment of 
the most atrocious designs — the corruption of morals, 
the propagation even of atheism, the overthrow of all 
civil government, the partition of property — doth not 
this fact shew the danger of all secret associations, 
and the consequent wisdom of the Chuch in inter- 
dicting them % 

But prior to the Masonic Congress of Wilhelmsbad, 
and therefore prior to the formal introduction of Illu- 
minism into the lodges, I have adduced examples 
enough to shew their corruption and impiety, and 
consequently that their perversion is to be ascribed 
to another and an earlier source, than the one as- 
signed in the manifesto I have quoted. 

If such corruption and impiety were not widely 
prevalent in the order, how can we account for the 
favourable reception it gave to the principles of Illu- 
minism % And supposing all the theories of Barruel 
and others, as to the early existence of a Manichean 



The Carbonari. 489 

element in the society to be unsound, still we must 
admit that, in the twenty or thirty years preceding the 
Revolution of 1789, the lodges of France and Ger- 
many were deeply contaminated with the irreligious 
and anti-social tenets of the reigning philosophy. 

My limits will not allow me to speak of the doctrines 
and proceedings of the Carbonari. But this is the 
less to be lamented, as, in the first place, their system 
is mainly founded on that of the Illuminati, which I 
have sufficiently described ; and, secondly, many 
whom I have now the honour of addressing are, 
through the celebrated tales of the lamented Padre 
Bresciani,* sufficiently conversant with the tenets and 
practices of this sect. 

Suffice it to say, that among the Carbonari we meet 
with the same careful separation of the higher from 
the lesser mysteries, the same fearful oaths, the same 
appalling ceremonies, and even a still swifter ven- 
geance for the non-compliance with unlawful engage- 
ments. We meet with the same detestable principles 
— the same league against religion and her ministers 
— against social order — against property, and against 
the family. Among the Italian Carbonari, who, un- 
like so many of the German Illumines, were born in 
the Catholic Church, we see at times a frightful per- 
version of holy things — a convulsive struggle between 
faith and scepticism — the rage of the demon, " who 
believes and trembles." But it is only just to say that 
* The '*Jew of Verona," "Lionello," &c. 



490 T^^^ Socialists, 

many in the lower grades are not at all cognizant of 
the ulterior tendencies of the sect, but from ignorance, 
curiosity, or a sense of misguided patriotism, allow 
themselves to be drawn into its lodges. 

THE SOCIALISTS. 

Saint-Simon was the founder of the first of the 
Socialist sects of modern times ; and before I enter 
upon an inquiry into those sects, this seems the fitting 
place to examine the circumstances which facilitated 
in certain countries, and more especially in France, 
the spread of their pernicious errors. 

In the first place, the French Constituent Assembly 
of 1790, by abolishing, instead of reforming, the 
Trades' Corporations, had left an immense void in 
society. While the public were not adequately de- 
fended against ignorance and fraud, nor the master 
against the evils of excessive competition, the moral 
and the material interests of the workman were left 
unprotected. In the course of ages, time had, doubt- 
less, introduced abuses in the Trades' Corporations; 
but these a wise legislature should have removed, 
while it carefully respected the institutions themselves. 
The so-called Reformers of the eighteenth century 
were urgent in the demand for the unrestricted free- 
dom of individual industry. Those of the present 
age, seeing the evils that have resulted to the indi- 
vidual and to society from an uncontrolled, unre- 
stricted competition, have held up as the great 



Causes of their Rise and Spread, 491 

panacea the system of associations, and that in the 
most odious and despotic form. 

In the next place, the last hundred years, which 
have witnessed in Europe such an extraordinary de- 
velopment of manufacturing industry, have, unfor- 
tunately, beheld a like progress of irreligion, and 
vice, and social disorder. Too many of the master 
manufacturers, dead to every sentiment of religion, 
intent only on sordid gain, have abandoned their 
artizans to themselves, and, so far from superintend- 
ing their moral conduct and their religious practices, 
have set them a bad example ; or, by their harsh and 
selfish demeanour, have entirely alienated their affec- 
tions. 

The artizans, on their side, in many cases, with 
minds embittered by the neglect or the cupidity of 
their immediate superiors, undisciplined by religious 
training, given up to drunkenness and debauchery, 
have too often entered into unlawful combinations, 
not more adverse to the interests of their masters, than 
dangerous to the peace of society, and to the well- 
being of the workmen themselves. At the very 
moment, too, when the vicissitudes of trade, and the 
fluctuations incident more especially to the factory 
system, were constantly throwing so many operatives 
out of employ, and augmenting so considerably the 
rolls of poverty; the great institutions of charity, which 
the ages of faith had founded, were no more. The 
religious orders of both sexes had been suppressed- — 



492 The Socialists. 

their lands confiscated — the hospitals despoiled of their 
revenues — even the lay confi-aternities had been put 
down. Yet these were the institutions that took from 
poverty its worst sting, that softened down the harsh, 
cruel contrasts between wealth and want, that recon- 
ciled the suffering members of society to the inequali- 
ties of fortune, that brought together high and low, 
rich and poor, uniting them in the bonds of a common 
fraternity, and shewing the most forlorn son of Adam, 
that he had still some small remnant of that patrimony, 
of which he and so many of his brethren had been 
bereaved by a great primeval sin. 

Respect for property, too, was weakened by the 
confiscation of the Church lands and tithes. These 
possessions, whether held by the secular or the regular 
clergy, were not only to a great extent expended, as 
has just been observed, in ministering to the wants, 
spiritual and temporal, of the poor ; but they were in 
a certain sense the common patrimony of all classes. 
Any man, however obscure his birth, or limited his 
means, might by piety and learning qualify himself for 
the due discharge of the highest ecclesiastical ofiices — 
for priories and abbeys, for prebendal stalls, deaneries, 
and bishoprics. With such examples the history ot 
the Catholic Church in every age abounds ; and the 
same, it is but just to say, has been often witnessed 
in the Protestant Church in England. 

But it was not only the easy access of individuals 
in all classes to the enjoyment of ecclesiastical wealth 



Causes of their Rise and Spread, 493 

and honours, but the peculiar sacredness attaching to 
possessions set aside for the service of God, the main- 
tenance of His ministers, and the reHef of the poor, 
which commanded the especial reverence of mankind, 
and which in regard to his own religion even the 
heathen pays. When, therefore, a species of property- 
having such a hold on the veneration, as well as the 
self-interest of the people — sanctified, too, by the 
pious recollections of so many ages, — when such a 
species of property was rudely seized on by revolu- 
tionary violence ; how could secular property be ex- 
pected long to keep its ground ? 

We see, therefore, in the history of the French 
Revolution, how soon the confiscation of the estates 
of the nobihty followed on the spohation of the 
Church. In the general confusion, the property of 
the mercantile classes, of course, sufiered considerably; 
and had the reign of the Jacobins continued, the 
whole personal estate of France would have perished. 
The large masses of property, except in cases of very 
gross abuse, and where an aristocracy forgets its most 
manifest duties, — the large masses of property, I say, 
inspire the people with respect ; and when those 
masses disappear, their faith in property itself is 
weakened. Yet the principle of attachment to pro- 
perty is one inherent in human nature, and can never 
be eradicated, and is nowhere stronger than in the 
humbler classes of society. 

To all the circumstances I have enumerated as pre- 



494 -^- ^^ Saint-Simon, 

paratory to the growth and the spread of the socialistic 
doctrines, must be added the influence of an irreU- 
gious, immoral, and revolutionary press, working on 
masses often labouring under severe physical priva- 
tions, and under a still greater moral destitution. 

Such was the state of things in certain countries of 
Europe, and more especially in one, which has been 
the laboratory of modern revolutions — I mean France. 
Can we conceive a soil better prepared for the deadly 
seed of socialism % Can we marvel at the rank, luxu- 
riant growth which that seed has there attained to % 

It is time to speak of the founder of the Saint- 
Simonian sect. 

Count Henri-Claude de Saint-Simon was born at 
Paris in 1760, and was sprung of the ancient and 
noble family to which the celebrated Duke de Saint- 
Simon, the author of the " Memoirs of the Court of 
Louis XIV.," belonged. The Count early shewed an 
enterprising but restless disposition. In early youth 
he used to bid his servant awaken him in the morning 
with the words, " Rise, Monsieur le Comte, you have 
great things to do to-day." Soon after he had entered 
the army, his regiment joined the expedition to the 
United States, then engaged in the War of Inde- 
pendence, and on his return to France, he was, at the 
early age of twenty-three, raised to the rank of colonel. 
It is characteristic of his adventurous spirit, that, 
before his return to Europe, he had obtained leave of 
absence to visit the kingdom of Mexico. There he 



Sketch of his Life. 495 

proposed to the viceroy a plan for cutting the Isthmus 
of Darien, and so uniting the Atlantic and the Pacific 
oceans. Soon after his return to Paris^ he was sent 
as attache on a diplomatic mission to the Hague, the 
object of which was to negotiate a secret treaty be- 
tween France and Holland for bringing about the 
overthrow of the British empire in India. Having 
soon become disgusted with diplomacy, he gave up 
his military commission, and resolved to devote his 
life to projects of public utility. For this end he 
undertook with a German friend. Count de Redern, 
a journey into Spain. There he proposes to M. de 
Cabarrus, the Director of the Bank of St Charles, and 
afterwards the minister of finance, various plans for 
the material improvement of Spain, and, among othtrs, 
one for digging a canal to unite Madrid with the sea. 
This last-mentioned project received the countenance 
of the minister, but was never carried into effect. 
Saint-Simon then repairs to Andalusia, and there sets 
on foot a joint-stock company for the introduction of 
diligences^ on the same plan as had been recently 
adopted in France. The scheme was very successful. 
But no sooner had the shareholders begun to reap 
profit from the undertaking, than Saint-Simon, with 
his usual fickleness, gave up the direction of the com- 
pany, and returned to France. 

As soon as he had reached his country, the Gre^t 
Revolution of 1789 broke out. Brought up, as he 
had been, by the infidel philosopher, D'Alembert, he, 



496 M, de Saint-Simon, 

unlike the immense majority of his order, hailed that 
Revolution with joy. Now, in partnership with his 
German friend, Count de Redern, he enters into dis- 
graceful speculations for the sale of the plundered 
estates of the clergy and of his fellow-nobles, and 
realizes large profits. The illicit game is soon ter- 
minated by the Reign of Terror. Count de Redern 
contrives to escape into Germany; but Saint-Simon 
is thrown into prison. To the downfall of Robes- 
pierre he is indebted for the preservation of his life. 

Under the Directory, Count de Redern returns to 
France; and he and Saint-Simon endeavour to re- 
trieve their dilapidated fortunes. The two partners 
soon quarrel about their respective profits from the 
sales of the confiscated lands, and then separate. 
The German returns to his country with the larger 
fortune ; but the Frenchman has contrived to reap no 
inconsiderable gains. 

From this period, (1797,) Saint-Simon abandoned 
all financial speculations, and formed a plan for what 
he called the reorganizing of the sciences, and the 
reconstruction of social order. To this end he tra- 
velled in England, Switzerland, and Germany, and 
sought to form close relations with the most dis- 
tinguished artists, literati, and men of science of his 
time. To these he gave the most splendid entertain- 
ments, and sought in their conversation the improve- 
ment of his own mind. Under the Imperial regime, 
he pubhshed various works on science and pohtical 



His Death. 497 

economy \ but they attracted little attention. In 
1 8 14, he published, with M. Augustin Thierry, a 
work entitled, " The Reorganisation of European 
Society." Works entitled, *' UOrganisation,'' a jour- 
nal; " LTndustrie," '^ Le Systeme Industrie!," "Le 
Catechisme des Industriels," and, lastly, " Le Nouveau 
Christianisme," successively appeared in the years 18 17, 
1820, 1821, 1824, and 1825. 

The profuse expenditure of M. de Saint-Simon at 
last brought him to the verge of ruin. The small 
profits he had acquired from his literary pursuits 
were inadequate to his wants; and so the miser- 
able man, driven to despair, attempted his own life in 
1823. . 

The pistol-shot took but partial effect; and, with 
the loss of one eye, he narrowly escaped death. 

He then resumed his scientific labours, and ga- 
thered around him a certain number of disciples, 
among whom were some men of distinguished minds, 
though, as we may suppose, utterly destitute of reli- 
gious principle. He expired in their arms in the 
year 1825. 

Such was the wretched man who thought he had 
received a mission to preach a new religion, and one, 
forsooth, more perfect than the Christian. 

Let us now examine his religious system. The 
system of Saint-Simon is a mere syncretism, and 
not the most scientific, of the old Eleatic philosophy, 
and of the theories of Giordano Bruno and Spinoza. 

2 I 



498 The Saint'Simonians. 

In this system, which I shall briefly analyze, God 
is neither a mere material Being, as in Fetichism, nor 
a pure Spirit, like the God of the Christians. He, ac- 
cording to Saint-Simon, is the sum of all existence ; 
everything is God, He is in His living unity. Love ; 
in His material form. Nature or the World ; in His 
spiritual form. Humanity. 

God is, therefore, the soul of the world, so to 
speak; and the world is His body. His co-eternal 
form, and, consequently, is uncreated. 

Man, a finite manifestation of the Divinity, is His 
image also. Like the Deity, he is in his living unity, 
love or sympathy; in liis spiritual capacity, intelli- 
gence and wisdom ; and in his material aspect, force 
and beauty. Man^s work during life is the improve- 
ment of those three kinds of faculties. First, in the 
physical order, he can and he ought to procure for 
himself the utmost possible enjoyment, and labour by 
industry to embellish his abode ; secondly, in the in- 
tellectual order, he ought incessantly to advance in 
the knowledge of truth ; and, thirdly, in the sympa- 
thetic or moral order, his law is the love of God, and 
of his fellow-creatures. In the next life the lot which 
awaits him is a mystery. Confounded, absorbed in 
the bosom of the Great Whole — the Divinity — he will 
partake of the general development of the universe. 
Between man and God sympathy will henceforward 
be expressed by thanksgiving, and not by prayer, 
which indicates fear and distrust, and which seems 



Their Religious System. 499 

even to aspire to make^ the Deity change His re-* 
solves. 

Among men the sympathetic development is 
wrought by the social state. For a long period the 
object of society seemed to be to make man an in- 
strument of man — that is to say, to establish tyranny 
on one side, and slavery on the other. But in the 
better futurity that is approaching, there will be one 
universal association of all mankind under one head, 
and which will have for its object the amelioration of 
man, and the cultivation of the globe. 

The Saint-Simonians divide human society into 
three classes — the priests, or the rulers ; the learned, 
or the theologians ; the industrials, or the artisans. 
To this end property is to change its nature j it is to 
become common. All inheritance is to be abolished. 
The son is to reap neither the riches nor the glory of 
his father; and the children, torn from the parental 
hearth, are to know no other parent but their common 
country. A common education will reveal their indi- 
vidual capacity; and all, without regard to birth or 
sex, will receive each according to his capacity, and 
each capacity according to its works. The most 
worthy, the most learned, the most virtuous member 
of the community is to be invested with supreme 
authority, to preside over the distribution of the social 
functions, and to rule the association — that is, all 
mankind — as spiritual and temporal head. 

From this rapid outline we may see that the Saint- 



500 The Saint- Simonians. 

Simonians preach up a decided system of Pantheism, 
and that they rigorously apply its tenets to moral, 
political, and domestic life. 

Let us analyze their doctrines more in detail. 

There is, d^ccording to them, but one single Being, 
who is God. Spirit and matter, man and the world, 
are but forms of that infinite Substance. Their system, 
they add, differs essentially from Spinoza's, inasmuch 
as the two forms, matter and spirit, are with them 
combined and vivified by love. 

On this theory, M. Ozanam well observes, "that 
the idea of love is intimately connected with that of 
thought; that those two modes of being, whereof one 
often engenders the other, which intermingle and are 
confounded, are alike incompatible with matter. . . . 
In the language of common sense, extent, divisibiUty, 
inertness, are the characteristics of matter : love, 
thought, sentiment, are the modifications of spirit. 

" Whether, therefore, we consider spirit and matter 
as different substances or as different forms, there is 
no possible medium term between them ; for one ex- 
cludes the other. Still less could this medium term 
be love^ since love is essentially spiritual. Much more 
simpjicity and depth do we find in the system of 
Spinoza, which forms, nevertheless, the incontestable 
basis of Saint-Simon's philosophy."* 

So far M. Ozanam. 

By confounding God and nature. Pantheism denies 
* Melanges, t. i. Paris, 1859. 



Their Religious System, 501 

the individuality of substances, — it denies the person- 
ahty of God, — it effaces the distinction between vice 
and virtue, right and wrong, — it destroys moral re- 
sponsibility, by rejecting the individuality of the soul, 
and so makes its immortality an illusion. The Saint- 
Simonians, hesitating and uncertain in their Pantheistic 
creed, sometimes represent the soul in the next life as 
passing through a series of migrations — sometimes 
confine the notion of her immortality to the perpetuity 
of fame. 

Thus, this religion, which was to supersede Chris- 
tianity, undermines the two great primary truths on 
which the whole moral economy of the world depends 
— the being of a God, and the immortality of the 
human soul. These two great dogmas are the founda- 
tion of all religions. 

The idea of a Supreme Being is the truth of truths, 
— the truth antecedent to all other truths; — it is a 
metaphysical necessity — a physical verity — a mathe- 
matical certainty — an indelible impression of the 
conscience ; it is the prolonged echo of all ages, and 
of all tribes, races, and peoples, civilised, barbarian, 
and savage ; it is the light of history, the guide of life, 
the fountain and the sanction of all legislation, the 
pivot of all existence, physical, moral, and intellectual. 
And the few miscreants who have striven to deny it, 
are objects of abhorrence to all mankind, regarded by 
them as intellectual monsters, and as moral parricides. 

The other great dogma of the immortality of the 



502 The Saint' Simonians. 

soul, and of a state of future retribution, is one 
equally proclaimed by the concurrent voice of all 
times and of all nations, equally attested by the con- 
science, equally anticipated by the feelings, equally 
acknowledged by the reason. And though the evi- 
dences here are not of the same overpowering force 
as in the case of the other great truth — though they 
are more subtle, indirect, and inferential in their 
nature— yet are they scarcely less strong. Take the 
dogma of future retribution away, and the moral 
world falls into chaos. And it is remarkable that 
this doctrine was less disfigured in the heathen 
superstitions than the idea of a Supreme Being. 

Thus, these two primary articles of belief pro- 
pounded and developed in the successive schemes of 
Divine revelation, and which are the basis of all 
religion, are again reflected, and, if I may so speak, 
refracted by the natural reason itself. 

The Saint-Simonians hold all truth to be purely 
relative, or the doctrine, that what is true in one age 
ceases to be so in another; — a principle that strikes at 
the root of all objective certainty. They assert the 
principle of an endless development in the moral 
world ; and yet they pronounce their own system to 
be the final one. Such are the contradictions into 
which they fall ! 

In conformity with the Pantheistic doctrine of 
fatalism, these sectaries reject prayer ; for they main- 
tain that the Supreme Being can never change His 



Their Religious System. 503 

resolves. But inconsistently enough, they admit of 
thanksgiving; but if all things be predetermined by 
an unalterable decree, why should thanksgiving be 
indulged in more than petition % But can we conceive 
a religion of any kind without prayer ] And in re- 
pressing that spontaneous respiration of the soul, if I 
may so speak, does not Pantheism pronounce an 
anathema upon itself? 

The anthropology of the system is in due keeping 
with its theology. The fall of man is denied, and the 
consequent necessity of a Divine Atonement. The 
antagonism between the flesh and the spirit, between 
the reason and the senses, is repudiated; and the 
gratification of the sensual appetites is prescribed as a 
duty, not less imperious than the satisfaction of in- 
tellectual desires. While every stimulus is thus given 
to concupiscence, and sensual passions are in a 
manner sanctified, the idea of future retribution is, as 
much as possible, thrown into the background, and 
this earth, as man's true paradise, is made the chief 
centre of all his aspirations. Thus, every barrier 
against sin is removed ; — all the dikes to guard the 
family and society against the inundation of crime are 
thrown down. "It is an error,^- say the adepts of 
this philosophy, " to wish to establish a positive 
distinction between good and evil, right and wrong. 
, . . . Justice and utility have been too long sepa- 
rated ; — vice and crime are but a want of perfection.^' 
Such were the doctrines openly proclaimed by the 



504 The Samt-Simontans. 

new sect — doctrines which revolt the reason, and 
shock the conscience of all men. Justice and man's 
eternal interests can never be separated; but, irre- 
spective of the divine promise, the practice of virtue 
is often opposed to an immediate temporal gain. 
What is virtue but a sacrifice ? And what is a sacri- 
fice but the surrender of certain interests, advantages, 
and pleasures, from a sense of duty ? The Almighty 
in His own good timfe rewards virtue with temporal 
blessings ; but it was precisely because of its renun- 
ciation of forbidden pleasures, virtue receives these 
blessings. Then, to say that vice is but the result of 
feebleness of character, and feebleness of intellect, is 
most absurd; for as M. Ozanam well observes, we often 
lee crime associated with great vigour of mind, and 
great energy of character. And in the more advanced 
and cultivated periods of society, it not unfrequently 
happens that vice is more prevalent than in the earlier 
times. 

Now, as to the religious and civil organization of 
the world, as proposed by this sect, we have seen 
that personal merit is to be the sole standard or 
criterion of dignity. The Royal Pontiff, who presides 
over the General Association, is, with the aid of his 
officers, to determine the distribution of the various 
social functions. But, in order to discharge such a 
duty well, he must be endowed with a preternatural 
sagacity; and then the pride, vanity, jealousy, and 
self-interest of men would never abide by his award. 
Such an institution, if even it could be realized for a 



Their Social System. 505 

year, would open an arena for endless contention, 
hate, violence, and bloodshed. Such a social arrange- 
ment is not adapted for the smallest community, even 
for the briefest period; and yet its partizans madly 
aspired to bring, and for ever, the universe under its 
control. 

It is one of the miracles of the Catholic Church, 
that she has united in the bonds of her unity so large 
a portion of the globe ; but this unity is one purely 
spiritual, purely dogmatic, binding only the minds 
and the hearts of men together. The civil magis- 
tracies, laws, and institutions, the peculiar customs, 
manners, and character of each country are not only 
respected, but guarded inviolate by the Catholic 
Church. Her doctrinal unity, too, is not a dead, 
abstract unity, but a living unity — a unity in diver- 
sity — a unity, which the variety of discipline, so far 
from impairing, serves but to strengthen and to 
elucidate. 

In the Saint-Simonian state, property is to be put 
an end to. "Property,^^ say the teachers of this, 
school, "which for many centuries has been in a state 
of progressive decline, must cease to exist. With it 
will cease inheritance, which will give place to the 
community of goods, and to their division according 
to merit, according to want."* 

This principle consummates the servitude to which 
the Saint-Simonian system had reduced man. On 
one hand, it renders his social status entirely depen- 
* Tableau de la Religion Saint-Simonienne, Juin 1 831. 



5o6 The Saint-Simonians. 

dent on the judgment of the supreme ruler of the 
society, without reference to his own opinions, feel- 
ings, and inclinations ; and on the other hand, by 
depriving him of proprietary rights, it perpetuates his 
thraldom. Property is at once the symbol and the 
instrument of freedom. It is the application and the 
external manifestation of freedom. Property may be 
defined : an instrument acquired or inherited for the 
exercise of physical or of intellectual labour; or as 
the product of our own bodily or mental faculties, 
or of those from whom we have acquired or inherited 
it. , It is the characteristic of a being at once intelli- 
gent and free; and, therefore, as the brutes have 
neither intelligence nor freedom, they can acquire no 
property. And though man — a being endowed with 
intelligence and free-will — can without property re- 
tain moral liberty, he cannot without it retain his 
social freedom. 

Hence, according, to the legislation of pagan an- 
tiquity, the slave, as he had not the disposal of his 
person, was also without proprietary rights. And, in 
common parlance, we say of a man, when he has 
acquired a certain amount of property, " He has 
realized an independence r So closely do mankind 
connect the idea of freedom with that of property 1 
But property, though upheld by human laws, is an- 
terior to civil society; — it is coeval with domestic 
life, and is guarded by the sanctions of the Divine law. 

The destruction of proprietary rights involves that 



Their Social System. 507 

of heritage — that is, the transmission of rank, titles, 
orders, and even name ; for the child, according to 
this system, is to be torn from the parental roof, and 
to be educated by strangers, and to know no other 
mother but its country. Hereby the feelings dearest 
to human nature are cruelly outraged, and the family 
is utterly disorganized. These guilty sectaries go a 
step further, and assail the sanctity, the unity, and 
the inviolability of the nuptial tie. All the sects, 
ancient and modern, that have attacked the principle 
of property, have attacked the constitution of the 
family also. And the deep reason of this is, that as 
property is the badge and the instrument of man's in- 
dividual freedom, it is also the physical substratum of 
the family. The Saint-Simonians openly proclaimed 
the emancipation of woman — that is, her deliverance 
from all domestic and social restraints. They laid 
down dreadful premises, which other socialistic sects 
have carried to the most detestable conclusions. 
They were in search, they said, of the " free woman 
of the East," — the embodiment of their new theories 
of female perfection. But on this point, as on so 
many others, the new preachers were the worthy suc- 
cessors, if not the direct plagiarists, of the fanatical 
sects of the middle age. 

In the fourteenth century, the Fratricelli, or apos- 
tate friars, rejecting the authority of the Church, pro- 
claimed a new gospel of love, announced the advent 
of the Holy Ghost, preached up the levelling of ranks. 



5o8 The Saint-Simonians. 

and the extinction of property, and perpetrated enor- 
mous scandals. While they were filling Italy and 
Germany with disorder, ''a woman, called Wilhel- 
mina," says M. Ozanam, " rose up in Milan, giving 
herself out as an incarnation of the Holy Spirit, des- 
tined to complete what she blasphemously called the 
imperfect work of Christ, to exercise the new ponti- 
ficate, and to transmit to her female successors the 
sceptre of the renovated Popedom."* Her ponti- 
ficate, full of scandals, did not, as we may suppose, 
last very long; but much longer than that of the 
Saint-Simonian high priest. 

These guilty sectaries, by seeking to rob woman of 
those virtues which religion inculcates, and nature 
ratifies, — by thwarting her holiest affections, by tear- 
ing her away from the sphere of her domestic duties, 
and placing her on a false, factitious, political equality 
with man, — degrade her from the high social position 
which Christianity had given her, and reduce her to 
one much lower than she held even under paganism. 
It was the nimbus of purity with which the Christian 
religion had invested her, that fitted her to ascend to 
a higher, more ethereal region of social life. 

Such is a brief outline of the Saint-Simonian system 
in its doctrinal, ethical, and social parts. The system 
itself, monstrously impious and absurd as it is, has 
little claims to originality ; and from its uncertainty 
and contradictions on the most fundamental points, 
* Melanges, t. i., p. 224. Paris, 1859. 



Condemnation of their Society, 509 

evinces little scientific exactness. Yet the attempt to 
embody the Pantheistic doctrines in the shape of a 
religion, and to apply them to political and domestic 
life, was bold and novel ; for it had never before been 
made in so systematic a form. 

The July revolution of 1830 followed shortly on 
the death of Saint-Simon \ and in the excitement and 
agitation of the public mind consequent on that im- 
portant event, his disciples thought the moment pro- 
pitious to make their grand experiment on society. 
They openly proclaimed their Pantheistic creed, and 
all its monstrous applications to the State and to 
the Family. The Pontiff Enfantin, and his associates, 
Rodriguez, Bazard, and others, were to be seen 
parading the streets of Paris, clad in fantastic dresses, 
striving to enlist proselytes, and declaring that they 
were in search of the " free woman of the East." In 
a population so impious, as a large portion of the 
inhabitants of Paris then especially was, it may be 
supposed that the new doctrine found dupes, and 
even, too, among the educated classes. The new 
preachers were soon, however, accused and convicted 
before the tribunals of outrages against public morals ; 
and, by a solemn judicial sentence, their association 
was dissolved in 1833. Thus, the religion which was 
to embrace the world, and to supersede Christianity, 
perished ignominiously, and amid general derision, 
on the benches of a police-court ! Its very name has 
passed from the lips and the minds of men; and 



5IO Socialists under M. Cabet. 

though little more than thirty years have rolled away 
since the death of its founder, it is become utterly a 
thing of the past. Some of its followers, like the dis- 
tinguished geologist, M. Margerin, and the great agri- 
culturist, M. Rousseau, were happily converted to 
the Catholic Church. Others henceforth confined 
themselves, like Le Chevalier, to economical pur- 
suits; and others again, like Comte, the ablest of 
the modern French infidels, founded a philosophy of 
the most desolating and atrocious cast. 

Of the other socialistic sects, I shall say but little j 
partly because the main errors, common to all, have 
been already noticed under the head of Saint-Simon- 
ianism ; and partly because some are too wicked and 
licentious to be described. The better, hke that of 
Cabet, admit Deism at most, but will not suffer a 
place of future punishments to be so much as named 
in their ideal commonwealth. Little, too, is to be 
said of the future rewards of Heaven ; because in the 
New Utopia, called Icaria, an Eden of bliss is to be 
restored. The fall of man is denied ; all the other 
truths of Christianity are proscribed; and though 
there are to be priests and priestesses in this com- 
munity, the thoughts of its members are to be diverted 
from the unseen world, and fixed upon their terres- 
trial abode. The community of goods is to be 
gradually established, and the present constitution of 
the family to be retained, but as a temporary ar- 
rangement only. Man is born essentially good, say 



Their Colony in Icaria. 5 1 1 

these reformers; and it is domestic and political 
society only that depraves him. In Icaria, the politi- 
cal constitution is to be a despotic democracy. There 
is to be one legislative chamber composed of two 
thousand members. In this state, '' society, it is said, 
concentrates, disposes, and directs everything; it 
must subject the will and the actions of all its mem- 
bers to its rule, its order, and its discipline. The 
assembly is to regulate the minutest details of domestic 
life, even to the public kitchen." * 

It may, once for all, be observed, that though there 
are wild, impracticable democrats who abhor socialism, 
yet socialists of every shade are democrats. With an un- 
erring instinct they feel that in great states democracy 
is the feeblest form of government, and therefore leaves 
society most unprotected against their anarchic efforts. 

The colony called by M. Cabet, Icaria, and which 
he founded in a desert canton of Texas, was not more 
fortunate than that of New Harmony, planted by 
Robert Owen in North America. The colonists who 
had been induced by this wretched adventurer to pro- 
ceed to Texas, soon suffered the severest want and 
privations in their new settlement. Some succumbed 
under their miseries, and others, in a most deplorable 
condition, returned to France. Their chief, M. 
Cabet, was for swindling prosecuted and condemned 
by the Paris tribunal to two years' imprisonment. 

* Histoire et Refutation du Socialisme. Par M. de Bussy, 
p. 239. Paris 1859. 



512 Other Socialist Sects. 

The other socialistic sects, like those of Robert 
Owen, Fourier, Considerant, and Proudhon are founded 
on the grossest atheism and materialism, the en- 
couragement of all the evil appetites and passions, 
the community of goods, the utter destruction of the 
family, the utter prostration of personal freedom. It 
is unnecessary to dwell on these frightful aberrations 
of the human mind. M. Proudhon, the most intel- 
lectual of the socialists, alternately affirms and denies 
every truth in religion, morals, philosophy, legislation, 
and political economy. He plays fast and loose with 
every principle, and seems to take a delight in making 
a mockery of human reason. He seems a living em- 
bodiment of the spirit of negation.* " I have studied 
M. Proudhon,^' says the illustrious Donoso Cortes, 
" under all aspects, and if I were asked, what was the 
most salient trait in his intellectual physiognomy, I 
should reply that it was the contempt for God and 
for men. Never did a man sin so gravely against 
humanity, and against the Holy Ghost. . . . No, 
it is not he who speaks — it is another who is within 
him, who holds, who possesses him, and casts him 
down panting, a prey to the convulsions of the 
epileptic — it is another who is more than he, who 
constrains him to keep up with him a perpetual 
dialogue. What he says at times is so strange, and 
he says it in so strange a fashion, that the mind 

* *' Ich bin der Geist der stets verneint," says Mephistopheles 
in "Faust." 



M. Louis Blanc. 5 1 3 

remains in suspense, not knowing if he who speaks be 
a man or a demon, or whether he be serious or speak 
in mockery." * So far Donoso Cortes. 

Proudhon, with admirable logic, refutes at times 
the different systems of his brother-socialists, and so 
becomes an instrument for the vindication of truth. 

M. Louis Blanc, who during the Republic of 1848, 
was the founder of the national workshops of Paris — 
a privileged institution formed by an advocate of 
equality for the special benefit of the artizans of great 
cities, and where the idle and unskilful workman was 
to receive the same wages with the laborious and the 
skilful — M. Louis Blanc aifects to pass for a moderate 
socialist. Yet, in his works he pronounces the 
warmest eulogiums on all the dangerous fanatics, 
who, whether by word or by writing, or by the sword, 
have assailed the holy foundations of human society 
— Religion, the family, and property. He is one 
of those who, not daring to declare themselves com- 
munists, advocate the progressive tax and the sump- 
tuary impost. 

Nothing can be conceived more unjust than to 
make the burdens of the state fall on one class of 
citizens only, to the exclusion of all others. The 
toil of the peasant, the manual industry of the artizan, 
and the trade of the shopkeeper, are not less pro- 
tected by the civil government than the lands of the 
nobleman, and the vessels of the merchant. Why, 

♦ GEuvres de Donoso Cortes, t. iii., p. 409. Paris 1862. 

2 K 



514 T^^^ Socialists. 

then, should the former enjoy a privileged exemption 
from the discharge of public duties % Why should 
they not, in return for the amount of protection re- 
ceived, pay their proportional tributes to the state 
that bestows \\% M* Proudhon himself characterizes 
the progressive tax as one " which arrests the forma- 
tion of capital, and even is opposed to its circula- 
tion. . . . After having shocked all interests," says 
he, ^* and by its classifications thrown the market into 
disorder, the progressive tax arrests the development 
of wealth, and reduces the saleable value of things 
below their real value. It dwarfs — it petrifies society. 
What tyranny, what mockery ! The progressive tax, 
therefore, look at it as we will, resolves into a denial 
of justice — into a prohibition on production — into a 
confiscation.'^ 

It is in vain, says M. de Bussy, ^'that M. Louis 
Blanc tells us he respects the family, when he pro- 
poses the abolition of the heritage of the family, and 
the heritage of property. If in property we destroy 
the principle of inheritance, we destroy the family, 
and a fortiori when we destroy inheritance in the 
family itself. 

" No family is possible without the right of property, 
and no property without the right of inheritance.'^ * 

These are admirable observations. Hence we see 
why the Constituent Assembly of France in 1789, by 
aboHshing all the titles, armorial bearings, and orders 

* Histoire et Refutation du Socialisme, p. 220. Paris 1859. 



The Infant Church in Jerusalem. 515 

of the nobility, struck at the sacred principle of in- 
heritance, and so prepared the way for the wholesale 
confiscation of their estates. Before this class was 
despoiled, it was first dishonoured and degraded. 
These impious men, who cite Scripture only to dis- 
figure or parody it, bring forward the infant Church 
of Jerusalem, where there was a community of goods, 
as a sanction to their communistic schemes. But, in 
the first place, this community of goods among those 
first followers of Christ was purely voluntary; and, 
secondly, this state of things was evidently transient, 
and adapted only to an infant society. ^' While the 
land remained, did it not remain to thee "2" says St 
Peter to Ananias, " and after it was sold, was it not 
in thine own power f^ The apostle rebukes Ananias, 
not for having refused to throw his property into the 
common stock, (for he tells him he was master of his 
own,) but for having played the hypocrite, and laid at 
the apostles' feet but a part of the price of his lands, 
instead of the whole, as he pretended. And how 
could those first fervent worshippers of Christ have 
any relish for worldly occupations and worldly enjoy- 
ments ? Their hearts were in heaven, and everything 
of earth seemed to them a burden. Some of them 
had looked on the Divine face of the Redeemer, had 
witnessed His stupendous signs, and felt their hearts 
still burning with the recollection of His blessed words. 
They saw His apostles carrying on His ministry of 
love, and felt themselves still in an atmosphere of 



5 1 6 The Socialists, 

heavenly mercies and heavenly marvels. They re- 
lieved themselves, therefore, (as much as their duties 
permitted,) of the burden of domestic cares; and their 
repasts in common were, as it were, an earthly reflec- 
tion of that Divine banquet they so often fed on at 
the foot of the altar. ^^ Their possessions and goods 
they sold," say the Acts of the Apostles, " and divided 
them to all, according as every one had need. And 
continuing daily with one accord in the temple, and 
breaking bread from house to house, they took their 
meal with gladness and simplicity of heart." And 
even w^hen the fervour of first love was gone, the 
spread of God's kingdom upon earth seemed to be 
their only care. The first four centuries of the Church 
scarcely shew an example of a Christian, whether 
priest or layman, writing on any topic unconnected 
with theology. 

The life of community in religious orders is another 
example alleged by the socialists in confirmation of 
their theories. But how can the exceptional con- 
dition of a few serve as a standard for the conduct 
of the many? How can a life specially devoted 
to prayer, contemplation, the administration of the 
sacraments, the preaching of the word of God, the 
spiritual instruction of the ignorant, the conversion of 
the heathen, be prescribed to those engaged in secular 
relations and in secular duties as a model for imita- 
tion? The Church, which commands charity, recog- 
nises thereby the principle of property ; the Church, 



The Community of Goods, 5 1 7 

which, by preaching up the detachment of the will, 
renders monastic obedience possible, so strongly re- 
spects personal freedom that alone in the world she 
has been able to abolish slavery. The Church, which 
imposes celibacy on her priests and her religious, has 
exalted matrimony into a sacrament. Her evan- 
gelical counsels confirm the force of her precepts ; 
and her precepts admit of the perfection of her 
counsels. 

But the life of community recommended by the 
Socialists is one where self-will is uncontrolled, where 
cupidity is encouraged, where the sensual appetites 
are not only unchecked, but even fostered, where 
moral responsibihty is destroyed; for future retribu- 
tion, denied by many of these sectaries, is, by even 
the more moderate, represented as something vague 
and indefinite. 

A word on the community of goods. The endless 
diversity in the physical, moral, and intellectual facul- 
ties of men — in their character, tastes, and disposi- 
tions — in the circumstances of their lives, as well as 
in their duration, precludes the very idea of an equality 
of fortunes. Lands, for example, that were now to be 
equally divided among a thousand families, would, at 
the end of sixty years, exhibit nearly as great an in- 
equality of distribution as at present prevails. 

In an excellent little popular pamphlet published at 
Paris a few years ago, in confutation of the Socialist 
errors, we find the following calculations : — 



5 1 8 The Socialists. 

There are in France about forty-three milHon cul- 
tivable acres of land. It is estimated that on the 
average each acre yields sixty-four francs a year, or 
about two pounds twelve shillings. 

Out of these forty-three milUon acres, about a third 
are possessed by three million families, each family 
numbering on an average about five persons, and pos- 
sessing from five to three acres, and a little more. 
These poor families, of course, leave nothing for the 
spoiler. 

Another fourteen million acres are possessed by 
seven hundred thousand families, each family having 
on an average about twenty-one acres, and a yearly 
income of from one thousand to thirteen hundred 
francs, or from forty to little more than fifty pounds 
of our money. From these, again, nothing could be 
taken away. 

We have, therefore, twenty-eight millions that the 
hand of spoliation would itself respect. 

Eleven million acres are possessed by a hundred 
and sixty thousand families, possessing on an average 
about seventy-five acres, yielding to each family an 
annual income of three thousand francs, or about 
;^i2o sterling. Now, though this income, compared 
with the miserable pittance above stated, is^ tolerable, 
yet none, says this pamphlet, who (io not wish to 
bring down every inhabitant in France to the level 
of poverty, would require a partition of these acres. 



The Partition of Estates. 5 1 9 

Four million, or, for greater security, say six mil- 
lion acres, remain to be accounted for. These are 
possessed by twenty-three thousand families belonging 
to the class of the great proprietors. After the spolia- 
tion of these, and the assigning to each family so 
despoiled the very moderate allowance of ;^i2o per 
annum, there would remain four million acres to be 
divided among the poorer families. 

The total number of families which the pamphlet 
calculates would be entitled to a share in this general 
spoil, amount to four millions. Now, four million 
acres at the highest, divided among four million 
families, would give one acre to each, or a yearly 
income of sixty-four francs. 

Parturiunt montes, nascetur ridiculus mus. 
" The mountain labours, and a mouse is born." 

Thus, in order to secure to the poor famihes a 
tenth part only of what they receive from private alms 
and public beneficence, enormous injustice, and on 
the most terrific scale, is to be perpetrated, — torrents 
of blood are to flow, — national bankruptcy to ensue, — 
and France, convulsed to her centre, is to be covered 
with mourning and with ruins ! 

And, observe, the acres have been estimated at 
their normal marketable value ; but the very threat of 
such a spoliation would cause their value to fall below 
zero. 



520 The Socialists. 

But that Providence^ which watches over His 
Church and civil society, has furnished the necessary- 
antidotes to the pestilent errors I have been describ- 
ing. The renovated zeal of the clergy in France and 
Germany, where these errors had their rise, — the 
great progress of Catholic philosophy and science, — 
the increase of piety and charity among the laity, — 
the establishment of confraternities, and especially of 
that great Association of St Vincent of Paul, which 
now blossoms and spreads its branches over the whole 
Church of Christ ; — these are the defences of the 
Christian Church and Christian society. The con- 
fraternity of St Vincent of Paul was in its origin 
simultaneous with the rise of Saint-Simonianism. 
And it is remarkable that one of the ablest vindica- 
tions of the Church and of society against this per- 
nicious system came from the pen of one of the 
founders of that charitable Association — the late 
lamented M. Ozanam. 

In conclusion, may I be allowed to express a hope 
and prayer, that the contamination of these odious 
doctrines may long be kept off from this isle, — an 
isle in early antiquity called holy,* — a title which in 
subsequent ages her tried attachment to the true faith, 
her constancy under the severest persecution, her 
manifold virtues, have so well deserved; — an isle 
which I consider it an honour to be connected with 
by family ties, as well as by academic position, and the 

* Sacra lerne. 



Conclusion. 321 

bonds of faith ! May her virtues ere long be crowned 
with every temporal blessing; — may agricultural plenty 
and commercial and industrial prosperity keep pace 
with her progress in Religion and learning ! And in 
this prayer I beg leave to conclude the Lecture.* 

* In composing this Lecture, I have, besides the works of 
Barruel, Robison, and Eckert, cited in the preceding Lecture on 
Freemasonry, consulted the following books : — 

1. Essai sur le Catholicisme, le Liberalisme, et le Socialisme, 
par Donoso Cortes, Marquis de Valdegamas. Paris, 1862. 

2. Melanges religieux, philosophiques, politiques, et litt^r- 
aires, de J. Balmez. Paiis, 1854, 3 vols. 

3. Histoire et Refutation du Socialisme, par M. Ch. de 
Bussy. Paris, 1859. 

4. Brownson's Essays. New York, 1858. 

5. Biographic Universelle de Michaud. Nouvelle edition. 
Paris, 1863. 

6. Lionello, by the Padre Bresciani. Eng, Trans. Balti- 
more, 1862. 

7. Melanges religieux, politiques, et litteraires, par M. Oza- 

nam, Professeur de la Litterature etrang^re a L' University 
Paris, 1859. 



APPENDIX, 

Referred to in Page 432. 



BRIEF EXPOSITION OF THE PRINCIPAL HEADS OF PAPAL 
LEGISLATION ON SECRET SOCIETIES. 

I. The whole legislation of the Church on the subject of the 
secret societies of modern ages is, so far as known to me, con- 
tained in the following documents — the Constitution of Clement 
the Twelfth, In eminenti^ 1738; of Benedict the Fourteenth, 
' Providas, 1751 ; of Pius the Seventh, Ecdesiam a Jesu Ckristo, 
1821 ; of Leo the Twelfth, Quo graviora, 1825. This last con- 
stitution contains in extenso the three preceding, and is found in 
the continuation of the Bullariiim Romanum, tome xvi. p. 345» 
&c. ; or in Heilig's edition of St A. Liguori's Moral Theology, 
Appendix^ de R. Pontificum Decretis. All these constitutions 
have been confirmed by our present Holy Father, Pius the Ninth, 
in the Encyclical, Qui pluribus, November 9, 1846, Acta^ pp. 1 1, 
12. To these may be added the answers of the Sacred Peniten- 
tiary, November 8, 1821, to certain questions proposed by the 
Archbishop of Naples, and other bishops of the Neapolitan 
kingdom. In reference to these documents, and the legislative 
enactments contained in them, the following questions may be 
raised : — 



Appendix. 523 

2. First — What are the secret societies condemned in the afore- 
said constitutions ? Answer i °. — The Freemasons are condemned 
byname in the constitutions of Clement and Benedict; the Free- 
masons and Carbonari in the constitution of Pius. 2°. — Leo, 
besides renewing the constitutions of his predecessors, estabhshes 
certain specific marks, and condemns all secret societies whatso- 
ever bearing those marks. See below, n. 5, 3°, and n. 7. 

3. Secondly. — Has the Holy See designated any features in the 
constitution, end, or other adjuncts of these secret societies, as 
the grounds of condemnation ; and, if so, what are they ? 
Answer, — Several grounds are given, from which I select the 
following : I °. The union of men of every or any sect or reli- 
gious persuasion, and of men indifferent to all religion — heretics, 
deists, atheists, &c. (Mark, there is question throughout, not 
of public or otherwise open assemblies, as at our fairs, elections, 
&c. , but of secret associations. ) It is manifest, as the constitu- 
tion of Benedict affirms, that such associations are highly dan- 
gerous to the purity of Catholic faith and morals. 2°. The dark, 
impenetrable veil of secrecy which, by the constitution of these 
societies, is thrown over all that passes at their private meetings. 
3°. The oath by which the bond of secrecy among the members 
is sealed. The authorities both in church and state have a right, 
which no oath of this kind can bar, to inquire and ascertain 
whether the proceedings of such secret associations are injurious 
to the welfare of the state or of religion. 4°. These societies 
bear an ill repute with wise and upright men, who look on those 
that join them as thereby tainted in character — tainted, of course, 
in Catholic eyes, and from a Catholic point of view. 5°. The 
oath taken by members of the higher orders in the societies, not 
to divulge their own secret transactions to members of the lower 
and less initiated grades. 

4. As time rolled on, the true anti-Christian and anti-social 
tendency of the secret society system developed and displayed 
itself more unmistakably and more fully. Hence, among the 
grounds of condemnation in the constitutions of 1821 and 1825, 
we have, 6°, their furious and satanic hatred of the Vicar of 
Christ ; 7°, their league of secret murder ; 8°, their avowed 
atheism \ 9°, their conspiracy against all legitimate authority, in 
the state as well as in the Church, &c., &c. These hideous and 



524 Appendix. 



hellish developments the Sovereign Pontiff affirms were m^de 
known to him from the most authentic sources of information. 

5. Thirdly, — What are the ecclesiastical censures incurred by 
the aforesaid constitutions ; and by whom are they incurred ? 
Answer. — The greater excommunication is ipso facto incurred 
1°, by Freemasons ; 2°, by Carbonari ; 3°, by the members of 
any secret society, under whatsoever name it may exist, where- 
soever or whensoever it may exist, which is, like that of the 
Carbonari, leagued against the Church and the supreme temporal 
authority 5 4°, by all who, under any pretext or excuse whatso- 
ever, enrol themselves in such societies, or propagate or promote 
them, or are present at any of their meetings, or give them any 
help or favour, whether openly or secretly, directly or indirectly, 
&c., &c. 

6. Fourthly. — From what has just been said, it is evident that 
many forms of secret societies may exist, whose members do not 
incur the above excommunication. In fact, this censure is only 
incurred by Freemasons, Carbonari, members of secret societies 
organised against both the state and the Church, and the abettors, 
&c., of the same. Hence a question arises, are other secret 
societies, not coming under any of these denominations, though 
not excommunicated in their members, nevertheless condemned 
by the aforesaid Papal constitutions? Aiiswer 1°. It is plain 
that any secret society, in which any one of the marks enumerated 
above, n. 3, 4, is found, comes, at least by implication and vir- 
tually, under the ban of the Papal condemnation. For it is 
manifest that these marks are not evil because reprobated, but 
reprobated because evil — evil, as being in themselves and in- 
trinsically immoral ; or evil, as being in themselves or in the 
circumstances fraught with imminent danger to faith or morals, 
or both. Hence all secret societies, the members of which are 
pledged by oath, as above, n. 4, are evil, on account of the 
danger {supposing no other evil element) of unsound doctrine or 
immoral principles creeping in and extending — the lawful au- 
thority, whether civil or ecclesiastical, being all the while kept 
in utter ignorance of the growing disorder, and therefore unable 
to apply efficient remedies to check and extinguish it. Hence, 
also, all secret societies combined against the legitimate supreme 
civil authority are evil, because this object is not merely in itself 



Appendix. 525 



dangerous but sinful, 2*. It is equally plain that any secret society, 
whose end, means, &c., are in opposition to any law of God or of 
the Church, whether coming under the description of the secret 
societies condemned by the Popes or not, is, by the very fact, 
under the ban of the Church. 

7. I subjoin a few sentences from the Papal Constitutions : — 

" Inter gravissimas prsefatae prohibitionis et damnationis 
causas . . . una est, quod in hujusmodi societatibus et conven- 
ticulis cujuscunque religionis ac sectse homines invicem conso- 
ciantur. .... Altera est arctum et impervium secreti foedus, 

quo occultantur ea quae in hujusmodi conventiculis fiunt 

Tertia est jusjurandum quo se hujusmodi secreto inviolabiliter 
servando adstringunt : quasi liceat alicui cujuslibet promissionis 
aut juramenti obtentu se tueri, quominus a legitima potestate 
interrogatus omnia fateri teneatur qusecumque exquiruntur ad 
dignoscendum an aliquid in hujusmodi conventibus fiat, quod sit 

contra religionis aut reipublicae statum et leges Ultima 

demum, quod apud prudentes et probes viros esedem societates 
et aggregationes male audirent, eorumque judicio quicumque 
eisdem nomina darent, pravitatis et perversionis notam incurre- 
rent." — Benedict XIV. 

*' Societates occultas omnes, tarn quae nunc sunt, quam quae 
fortasse deinceps erumpent, et quae ea sibi adversus ecclesiam et 
supremas civiles potestates proponunt quae superius commemora- 
vimus, quocumque tandem nomine appellentur, nos perpetuo 
prohibemus sub eisdem poenis, quae continentur praedecessorum 
nostrorum litteris in hac nostra constitutione jam allatis, quas 
expresse confirmamus." — Leo XII. 

Patrick Murray, Prof, Theology, 

Coll. Maynooth, 

June 16, 1862. 



POSTSCRIPT. 



8. Since the foregoing memorandum was published, certain 
statements have been put forward, for some of which the sanction 
of my very humble name has been claimed. 



526 Appendix. 

9. It has been stated, 1°, that, according to my interpretation 
of the Papal constitutions, secret societies combined against the 
state alone are not condemned by them. 

10. The statement is absolutely and even glaringly untrue. I 
have, in n. 6 of my little exposition, laid down the directly 
opposite doctrine so explicitly and emphatically that I am 
unable to re-state it here in terms more explicit and emphatic. 
It is indeed true that only the members, abettors, &c., of certain 
secret societies named or described by the Sovereign Pontiffs, 
incur excommunication ; but it is equally true that societies other 
than these, though not excommunicated in their members, &c. , 
are clearly condemned. Many things are condemned by the 
Church under pain of sin, v^hich are not prohibited under 
penalty of ecclesiastical censure, 

11. It has been stated, 2°, that certain secret societies, though 
bearing one or more of the marks (n. 3) on vi^hich the Papal 
condemnation is expressly grounded, have been formed for 
legitimate purposes, and use only legitimate means ; and that 
therefore such societies cannot come under the ban of Papal 
condemnation. 

12. Waving the question of fact, and of the value of the tes- 
timony on which it rests, the inference cannot be admitted. All 
Catholic theologians are agreed in drawing a marked and im- 
portant distinction between laws founded on a supposition of 
fact, {^'' prcesumptio facti,^'') and laws founded on a supposition 
of danger, [^^ prcesumpiio periculi,^^) The former suppose the 
existence of certain facts, and are not binding in any particular 
case where the facts are found not to exist : the latter bind in 
every case, even in cases where the presumed danger does not 
exist, or is believed not to exist. Thus, in many or most 
dioceses in Ireland, there is a law prohibiting the clergy from 
dining in any house on a day when a station of confession had 
been held there. This is a law founded, not on the presumption 
of a fact, but of a danger — namely, of dissipation, &c., — and 
binds even in a case where there is clearly no such danger, on 
the part of either priest or people. The reason of the distinc- 
tion between the two kinds of law is simple enough. There are 
clear tests for ascertaining facts ; but where there is question of 
acts, in themselves harmless yet prohibited because generally 



Appendix. 527 

dangerous, there is a general risk of self-delusion. I become 
quite persuaded that there is no danger in my own case. In 
this I may be altogether deceived ; but, even though I should 
happen to be right, my neighbour, Peter, will think he has just 
as good grounds for coming to a similar conclusion in his own 
case as I have in mine. So will James, John, and every one 
else, and thus the law becomes a nullity. 

13. Now, it is perfectly clear, from the language of the Papal 
constitutions, that, while some secret societies are condemned, 
as in themselves manifestly evil, the condemnation and prohibi- 
tion of others are grounded on a presumption of danger. In 
fact, every secret society bearing any one of the marks enumerated 
above, (n. 3,) is inherently dangerous. The seed of perdition 
may not be seen at first ; but the wily devil has sown it there, 
and it will grow and one day bear its accursed fruit for the 
doomed generation of that day. 

14. It has been stated, 3°, that associations, whether secret or 
open, of a purely political nature, belong, not to the spiritual 
order, within which the Church rules, but to the temporal 
order, over which she has by divine right no control whatever, 
that order being entirely external to her and independent of her. 

15. The principle, of which this statement is but a single 
expression, is one of the most baleful heresies of later times. 
None other has contributed more to turn so many modern 
societies into the ** glittering and godless" things which they 
are. I regret that just now I have not time to give even a 
rapid summary of what might be said in exposure and refutation 
of it. I am only able to say in one w^ord that, if man were a 
moral agent only in what are called purely spiritual things, — if 
he could only commit sin while engaged in these, — and if, while 
engaged in what are called purely temporal things, his acts were 
as indifferent, were as little morally good or morally bad, as the 
motions of an irrational animal, — then, indeed, the statement 
would have no light foundation in truth. But, alas ! it is just 
in those walks and occupations of life, which seem to be furthest 
removed from the sphere of the Church's eager vigilance and 
saving control, that men learn sin and practise sin, and become 
the very teachers and apostles of sin. Whatever on this earth — 
systems of education, colleges, schools, books, associations, or 



528 Appendix, 



whatever else may imperil the virtue or the faith of her children 
— on all these the Church has from above a sovereign right to 
judge, to command, and to be obeyed. Take away this right 
from her, and then indeed you have an atheist world. *'The 
harp, and the lyre, and the timbrel, and the pipe, and wine are 

in your feasts : and the work of the Lord ye regard not 

Therefore hath hell enlarged her soul, and opened her mouth 
without any bounds, and their strong ones, and their people, 
and their high and glorious ones shall go down into it," (Isaias 
V.) 

Patrick Murray. 

Coll. Maynooth, 
"zyijune xZ^it^ 



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